


мaтe ғor тнe ғυтυre

by xforestsong



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Adventure, Alpha Harry, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bottom Louis, Breeding, Cyborg Liam, Cyborgs, Denial of Feelings, Dom Harry, Forced Relationship, Hunted, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Louis, Protective Harry, Self-Denial, Stubborn Louis, Sub Louis, Survival, Tension, Terminator - Freeform, Tiny Louis, Top Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-08 12:09:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4304448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xforestsong/pseuds/xforestsong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis Tomlinson is an omega who NEVER wants to have kids.</p><p>Harry Styles is an alpha celebrity who hopes one day to settle down with the perfect omega.</p><p>Liam is a reprogrammed cyborg sent from the future who is here to tell the two that they need to mate in order to make sure that the Human Resistance leader in the future -their son- exists to lead the humans to victory against the machines.</p><p>The only problem is that Louis and Harry... well, they're not exactly compatible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ғιndιng

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: THERE IS GORE AND SEX SCENES WHERE YOU ARE HEADING!! ADDITIONALLY, I TEND TO BE A VERY GRAPHIC WRITER!!
> 
> Hope you like it :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis deals with a chauvinistic guest at his family home while a cyborg sent from the future searches for him in the town of Doncaster in hopes to bring him and Harry Styles together to mate. Unfortunately, being a parent is not on Louis' bucket list.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry, but I've been obsessed with "Terminator" for the last few weeks and while I was writing... this kinda just happened.
> 
> Erm. Enjoy..? :)

 

Louis Tomlinson has said many times before that he does _not_ want children. They're selfish and bothersome, as Louis would put it. They whine about everything, and when they're not whining, they're pooping, and when they're pooping, they start whining all over again. It's like a never-ending record player of misery - as if someone could ever "love" that.

Louis' not sure where this detest came from. His whole family _adores_ children; hell, his mother gave birth to _seven!_ And it seems the only children Louis can ever stand are his own siblings, and those are only on his _happy_ days. Sometimes Louis wonders what it'd be like if _he_ were to ever babysit, and how long it'd take before he'd offically lose his mind. 

His family never inquires Louis about his unsystematic distaste towards children. Because he's an omega, they always assume he's just having a bad day.

After all, _every_ omega wants pups.

Ugh... that's always the one stereo-type Louis has always hated. It's not like he _asked_ to be born this way - to be born with all these suffocating stereo-types haunting him day-after-day. Actually, if he did (and he's mulled over this subject several times over before), he would've definitely chose to be an alpha. At least _they_ aren't expected to have pups. Alphas (and betas) always seem to be the lucky ones in this world; freedom from expectations (on a certain note) and never bashed for not having pups. Actually, alphas are sometimes _praised_ for when (or if) they have pups; however, when it's an omega- _Oh_ , _no!_ \- it's to be _expected_ that they dote on pups already.

Little does society know that Louis does not meet any of the typical omega expectations. He'd actually rather mow a mammoth-sized lawn than look after children. It seems a bit harsh, but Louis can't explain it; he just really, _really_ doesn't like childen. Nevertheless, Louis tolerates them. He has to. In a place where babies are everywhere, he's adapted to the image of just bearing a placid face when around a child. It's when the child misbehaves or starts whining when Louis decides _fuck_ _this_ _shit_ and leaves.

Louis' always cherished the fact that he's able to hand back children over to their parents after supervising them, so when people confabuate about when Louis becomes a parent (which makes him cringe), he shudders at the fact that he would _never_ be able to just discard the child when he's brooked enough. _He_ would be the parent this time; _he_ would have to solve the pup's issues and comfort it until it stops whining.

Although, even through all of Louis' problems towards the idea of being a parent, he'd concluded that the absolute worst aspect would be _bearing_ the child. He's always viewed fetuses as parasites. Well, in a way, it _is_ true (as Louis says); they feast on the mother's life and nutrients and never give anything back. And when they have sucked enough life and the body decides that they've cooked enough, there's pain, and from what Louis hears, it's unimaginably _excruciating_ \- like being torn open. Then comes parenthood; or, in other words, stress and no sleep. As if Louis wants _that_.

One could say Louis doesn't want to be a parent; others could say he'd rather slit his own throat before being one. That's a little extreme, though Louis doesn't worry about the latter too much since he knows that if he ever does have sex with an alpha, it'd be condom, birth control pill, and every birth prevention imaginable involved. Or, to just make things easier, he'll get his tubes tied when he's of the acceptable age (omegas can't do this procedure until they reach the age of twenty-one) and never have to worry about conceiving.

So, yeah, Louis Tomlinson is never going to be mother.

Nope. Never.

Not even if the fate of the world depended on it.

 

 

☨    ❦    ☨

 

 

It's nighttime in Doncaster, UK. Blue electricity sparks from somewhere in the stale air of a dark, littered alleyway. It sparks again, more aggressive this time, then ignites intensely, webbing from a single, balled source, licking up the bricked walls and pushing over several objects in its field. Trash cans clatter and spill upon the futuristic energy, along with scrap newspapers for which dance hastily in the air. Finally, after ten seconds, the bluish branches of energy cease abruptly, retracting into the enlarging bright ball from which it'd originated from and -with a single pulse- the ball bursts like a fat bubble, brightening up the alleyway for a full second before sapping away completely. The only evidence it leaves is a young man who perches unfazed in a smouldering hot ring in the concrete.

The strange man arises slowly and steadily to his feet. He is naked, but does not seem worried about it. He simply searches the area with a practised eye, then proceeds towards the opening of the alleyway with a calm poise in his step. He eases out from the alleyway and into the empty streets of the Doncaster night.

The man appears to be in his early twenties; extremely fit and youthful, yet his placid, scarily-serious face suggests that he is not your average fun-loving, booze-drinking college student. His stride is relaxed and focused, as if he has a very important mission to accomplish as he roves down the streets and towards a parking lot. There are only three cars, one in which contains sexually-active teens squealing and rolling around from inside. The man approaches unworriedly.

The couple do not notice the man approaching until the seventeen-year-old male adolescent just so happens to roll his head to the side to face the window, watching through the glass as a strange man strolls towards them. The female omega hisses indignantly when he pushes her off to get a better look. When he realizes, _yes_ , this random guy is coming towards _us_ , he quickly slips on his clothes laying on the floor of the car, pushes open the door and growls warningly, "What'd you want, bub?"

The man stops in front of the young alpha and stares flatly at him.

The omega tumbles out from the car while simultaneously fixing her clothes back on. "Hey, c'mon, what're you- "

"Shh!" the alpha snaps towards his supposed mate, then turns sharply back to the stranger. "Why're you ating so weird, _huh?_ Do you want something?"

The man processes the question and answers with a formal, "Yes."

The young alpha snorts. "And what exactly is that?"

"Your clothes."

The alpha guffaws.

" _Now_."

The alpha loses his smirk and replaces it with a resentful glare. "Who the hell do you think you are, bub? You think I'm just gonna hand over my freaking clothes to you?"

"Yes."

He snickers. "Ha. And how exactly are ya gonna do that, huh?"

And in that moment, the alpha soon finds himself barrelling harshly towards the hard, paved ground, smacking his flesh off the spiky, cold floor. The omega shrieks and scrambles back into the car for safety, hurriedly shutting the door behind her. The man then -with a single plunge of his bare foot- shatters the adolescent's head. His body spasms for a second, then deflates lifelessly. The man steps off of the smashed, mushy remains of brain and strewn skull pieces and moves to peel off the deceased adolescent's clothes.

Once the man has acquired all the clothes (which are slightly tight, yet the jacket fits nicely), he glances towards the omega still in the car. She is huddled at the back corner, and -through the man's calculations- he wonders why she didn't just exit the car. He proceeds over to the car door and, upon finding it's locked, tears off the entire door. It clatters onto the concrete, twirling a few times before becoming motionless. The omega shivers, face written in fear, but does not move. The man, though it appears that he perhaps is not human after the several acts of super-strength -clearly out of reach from the capabilites of the human tissue- stares at her.

"Get _out_ ," he tells her - deadpanned, yet clearly hostile and serious. " _Now_."

In a second, the omega rips open the door that stil remains and scurries out. She is quick to flee the scene while loosely holding a jacket around her torso.

The man looks down to the dettached door and stares blankly. He bends down to pick it up as if it had the weight of a feather and plainly attempts to reattach it, though it fails and the door tumbles back to the ground. The man frowns at it. He has already calculated that the missing car door piece would look odd and suspicious, and therefore would not be suitable to use in public.

He scans the area and chooses the next car closest to him and, upon realizing it's locked, he bursts his hand through the window of the driver's seat and unlocks it there. At least with no window he can just tell the suspecting humans that it's too hot and that he pulled down his window because of it. Due to his un-human form, he cannot feel the temperatures, but from his programmed memory of how warm areas and cold areas differentiate in appearances, he is loosely able to tell them apart.

The man, without keys, ignites the car by stabbing his fingers through the keyhole and twisting the activating knob hidden within, and the vehicle purrs to life. As he drives the car, his sensors pick up the accomplisment of finding clothes and moves onto the next objective.

**FIND LOUIS TOMLINSON**.

And he will stop at nothing until he does.

 

 

☨    ❦    ☨

 

 

Louis watches as his twin brother and sister, Ernest and Doris, giggle profusely as his elder sisters, Lottie and Fizzie, play peek-a-boo with them while also tickling them. His gaze lingers before he returns to the TV and resumes watching the football game, trying to ignore the incessant (and very interrupting) baby laughs and squeals consuming the room's sound. Now, Louis loves his siblings -he does-, but for once can he _please_ just watch football in _silence?_ He can barely hear the commentary over the ongoing gurgles and "Peek-a-boo!"s from across the room.

"Okay, girls," Louis hears his mum say as she enters the living room, "time to bring the twins into the kitchen for lunch."

Lottie and Fizzie obey their mother and disappear with the twins into the kitchen. In a gush a relief, Louis sighs with grin and leans closer to watch the game. Which was until...

"Louis!"

He sighs. _So close..._

"LOUIS!!"

"Coming!" he yells back, turning off the TV. He tosses the remote onto the couch and lugs himself into the kitchen with that typical teenage, I-don't-want-to drag.

Louis' mum always makes everyone sit at the table. He assumes she must be worried of splitting apart from her kids like she did with Troy, her previous husband, and Louis' biological father. For a while after, she'd been married to Mark Tomlinson, for whom Louis switched his surname to, and together had Lottie, Fizzie, and the other twins, Daisy and Phoebe. Those two broke up a few years ago, then Louis' mum met another man, Dan Deakin, for which Louis' mum changed her last name again, yet Louis remained with "Tomlinson" as his.

... All this family history gets quite boring after a while, especially after explaining it like a broken record to friends on their first visit to Louis' house. It usually starts with, "Shit, man, did your mum seriously have all these kids with your dad?" and ends with, "Oh... I see now. Sorry, man. I didn't know."

"Louis?"

He hums, lifting his head.

"You've barely touched your food, hun. Everything okay?"

He blinks, comprehending the question, then splurts, "Oh! Yeah. 'M fine. Just tired, 'is all."

His mum narrows her eyes at him, but persists no more inquiry at him. She instead looks to the whole table and announces, "We'll be having guests here shortly, so everyone please look your best, okay?"

Louis nearly chokes. " _Guests- ?!_ "

His mum silently glares at her son beside her. "Yes, _guests_ , Louis," she hisses authoritatively, "and you will be _here_ -downstairs with us- when it happens, too; not upstairs buried in your room again."

Louis groans, fiddling monotonously with the peas on his plate.

"Do not huff at me, _mister_ ," she scolds. "It's a simple task and, besides, they won't be here too long. They're just new neighbors moved in from across from us and I thought I'd be nice and welcome them to the neighborhood."

"Yeah? What if their crazed cannibals who just moved here because they got kicked out from the last place they were at?"

" _Louis_ ," his mum growls, irked, "can you _please_ just... cooperate this _one_ time? It's not going to be long. You won't even have to say much. I'd just appreciate it if you stayed with us so they don't think I have this bad kid of mine who disobeys orders."

"But that _is_ me."

"But you're also and omega, dear," his mum implies, suddenly roasting Louis' nerves now, "and it looks better when an omega listens and doesn't refuse."

"What is that supposed to do with meeting neighbours?" Louis snarls. How _dare_ she bring up his Second Gender as an excuse. It means nothing!

His mum sighs, then smiles hopefully. "The couple who just moved here have a nineteen-year-old son - an alpha."

_Oh._ Now he sees where she's going. Ugh...

" _Mum_ ," Louis grumbles, "I don't care."

"But you never go out, Lou," his mum adds, "and I just want you two to meet - become friends. You know, the whole get-to-know-each-other gig." She sighs. "I'm just trying to help you, dear. Eventually, you're going to have to- "

" _No_ , I _won't_ ," Louis snaps, throwing down his utensils and shoving himself out of the chair and proceeding upstairs to his room. He's done lunch, even if he hasn't eaten anything. He storms into his room and slams the door like an cranky teenager.

Oh, wait, he _is_ a cranky teenager.

Down at the table, his mum stabs her food furiously, shoveling it into her mouth with that never-ending frustrated temper.

The doorbell rings ten minutes after Louis had marched off from the table. The twins, Daisy and Phoebe, squeal and sprint off towards the door, only to be matched up against Fizzie who pries open the door first. Louis can hear it all from upstairs. Great. Now he has to go downstairs and meet the son to satisfy his mum's wishes. He waits a minute, lingering inside the dark cave that is his room, and then decides it's probably time to go before he hears his mum's impatient footsteps up the stairs.

The happy commotion from downstairs carries throughout whole house, and Louis suddenly feels as though he may be the _only_ one who really, _really_ doesn't want to be here. He reaches the bottom of the stairs and flees into the empty living room while everyone else mingles in the kitchen area. At least for now he can gather him and try to plaster a smile on his face. It's apparent how rude Louis is probably being, but -like how he always sees it- he's just not in the mood for people right now.

"HI, Donny, how are you?"

"I'm good, Mrs. Deakin."

_Donny... that must be the son_ , Louis assumes based on the masculine and youthful voice.

"How about you go seek out my son, Louis. He's bound to be around here somewhere."

Louis body sparkles with nerves.

"Where should I look?"

A hum. "Last time I checked, he was upstairs in his room. He might have come down by now, but just search everywhere if you can."

_Alright. This is it. Whatever you do, don't be hostile_ , Louis reminds himself.

It takes a minute before an unfamiliar face pops around the corner of the living room. Just by glancing at this boy, one would immediately know he's alpha. It's just written all over him; tall, muscular, lean, sex hair, and -of course- he's wearing the typical, look-at-me alpha-y look: sports top (to show off his meaty biceps), and dark, ripped jeans (because, well, that's cool, right?).

This guy; he doesn't look like a man just _yet_ , but he's on the right track. Too bad Louis' not gonna fall for his evil schemes.

"Hey," the guys says.

"Hi," Louis replies flatly, eyes glued to the TV.

The couch dips beside Louis and he immediately realizes that "Donny" just sat beside him.

"So," the young alpha says, "football?"

"Yeah."

"Cool. I mean, not many omegas I know like sports."

_For fuck's sakes_. "Oh, well, I watch football whenever I can."

"What do you mean by 'whenever'?" the alpha asks politely.

Louis sighs darkly. "Either my sisters are hogging the TV or I'm doing chores around the house."

"Ah. I see. I think I know how you feel - about the chores part that is; I don't have any siblings. Usually my parents want me to mow the lawn or my dad wants me to help him with heavy work around the house. Last year we made a swimming pool. I've never been more exhausted in my life."

"I mow the lawn often," Louis comments, "I sometimes mow others lawns for money. It's easy."

There's a stale silence.

"Wow. I guess omegas are different around here than from where I was." He pauses. "Are they, or is it just you?"

_Ugh_. Louis shrugs. "I don't know... my sisters prefer to babysit or do stuff inside, but I'm ususally out and doing the hard stuff."

"Does your mum force you?"

"No, I volunteer."

There's an _impressed_ silence. "Oh. Well, cool."

"Yeah."

Neither of them speaks again for a while. The rooms fills with awkward silence and solidifes, creating a dense feeling that crawls discomfort along Louis' skin. Finally though, after a deliberate quietness, Donny speaks up, though now Louis wishes he didn't.

"Hey, you wanna... I don't know, go outside in the backyard... with me?" he asks - hopeful.

Louis cogitates for a moment, but comes to the sad conclusion that refusing would just be plain-out rude - and also, his mum might just shave his head in his sleep for not "getting to know" the son better. Friends - that's all they have to be. Friends - that's all Louis needs to do. And perhaps, after this visit is done, something good might actually come out of this meeting with Donny. Hopefully being friends is all that occurs between them.

Louis wishes that, doesn't he?

 

 

☨    ❦    ☨

 

 

The strange man drives through Doncaster, eventually coming across a phonebooth for which he yanks someone out of impatiently (actually, he doesn't undersand patience - just objective) to get inside. He hunts through the book offered inside the booth, searching for the surname, "Tomlinson." There is only one in Doncaster - good. The man tears out the page and wheels around, only to be smacked pointlessly in the face before proceeding back to his car, ignoring the man who hit him cry on the sidewalk about his hand being broken.

He starts to drive off, but then the car coughs and sputters, and refuses to move. The man peers to the lever indicating the emptiness of gas. He leaves the car and saunters down the sidewalk instead. He's already calculated the distance for which it'd take to reach the Tomlinson's address and that a car is not necessarily required.

 

 

People pass by him, and when one with a pet dog passes by, the dog immediately -upon sensing the man- snarls and barks viciously, trying to lung at him several times, only to be thwarted by his owner. The man gives no heed and continues walking down the sidewalk with a straight face and single obective: **FIND LOUIS TOMLINSON**.

 

 

☨ ❦ ☨

 

 

Louis watches from the grassy floor as Donny eases up the tall, old tree in Louis' backyard without oiling a single sweat. He looks like a bloody _monkey_ , just climbing up the thick branches as if the obstacles were nothing and heaving himself up as if _he_ were nothing. He smirks down at Louis from where he perches idly near the top of the tree. "You coming up, Tomlinson?"

Louis growls inwardly. "Yes," he says. _Yes... challenge accepted_.

Louis tries not to think too much about it when he leaps upward and grabs onto the first branch, lugging himself up with some strain. _Curse this lack of testosterone_ , Louis thinks darkly as he continues to ascend, obviously not as quickly as Donny (for which he secretly castigates himself for). Louis definitely starts to struggle when he reaches a point on the tree where the branch is too far away. _I'd have to jump to reach it,_ he figures dreadfully.

The sound of thumps and leaves crinkling reaches Louis' ears as Donny descends, approaching behind Louis where the omega hugs the trunk of the tree while standing nervously on a fat branch. Louis feels Donny's warm presence appear behind him - looming mockingly.

"Need help?" Donny offers.

Louis hisses, "No. I'm fine."

Donny's brows knit as he watches Louis just stand there unsure. "You _sure?_ I mean, 'cause you look pretty scared right now- "

"I said I'm _fine!_ " Louis snaps.

Donny frowns. "There's nothing embarrassing about getting help, Louis."

Louis opens his mouth to reply snarkily, but clamps his mouth shut and frowns, too, gripping the tree even tighter now. He understands that Donny is only trying to help; he's an alpha who sees an omega in distress - obviously he's going to act on it. Only Louis has lived his life learning how the omegas are _always_ the damsels in distress - never the other way around. He can save _himself_. He can do this _himself_. Perhaps he's just tired of listening to society's rules about how omegas should behave.

Louis shudders- _startled_ -when Donny's hand flattens on his waist. Immediately, he whacks it away, rejecting Donny's comfort. Again, he can do this _himself_... can he? Looking at the distance of the branch now and thinking about it, his instincts have now decided this is too parlous. What happens if he _misses_ and tumbles down? He'd surely break an arm - or even his head!

"Louis..."

"No!"

Donny sighs firmly, becoming aggravated now with the stubborn omega. "Louis, I'm only asking to help you up the tree. Or, if you'd like, I can help bring you back down to the ground if that's better."

Louis shakes his head furiously. "No, no... I'm fine."

Donny growls. "You're in denial, Louis."

Louis spins around, appalled. "How _dare_ you! You are a guest and this is _my_ house; you can't tell me what I'm feeling!"

"But you're an _omega_ and you're being _stubborn_ ," Donny replies dominantly, leaning closer to Louis' face, "and I _refuse_ to be humiliated by an omega like yourself."

Louis chuckles. "So, I've humiliated you, have I?"

"Not yet," Donny answers, "but all I'm saying if that I refuse to let it happen."

"And I _refuse_ to take orders from you, asshole," Louis replies artfully, turning back to face the branch. _That's it - I'm taking the risk!_

However: "That's it. I'm taking you back down."

Donny then swathes his one arm around Louis' waist, holding him against his chest and ignores the omega's scornful struggles as he brings them both down to the dirt. He manumits Louis, and the omega breaks away furiously. Louis snaps his head around to face the alpha, glares, and then charges him impulsively.

 

 

☨    ❦    ☨

 

 

The doorbell rings again for the second time today. Johannah glances in the direction of the front entrance for a quick second, then turns to her guests, muttering a polite, "I'll be right back," and hurries over to the door, wondering who the hell this is. She didn't have more guests coming, did she? She doesn't remember there being more than three.

Johannah opens the door, gawking up at the stranger before her.

"Louis Tomlinson?" he says in a dead voice.

Johannah -a little bemused, but regardlessly chooses to do as she's told- nods to the stranger and closes the door for a moment to get her son. Perhaps it's one of Louis' teachers coming over for tutoring, or maybe it's one of his stoned friends (for which Johannah will kick his ass for later after he gets rid of the guy looming by the entrance). Regardless of whatever the case may be, Johannah seeks for her son out in the backyard, sliding open the door and yelling, "Louis! Someone's at the door for you!"

 

 

☨ ❦ ☨

 

 

Louis halts himself, stopping just before lunging at Donny when he hears his mum yelling, "Louis! Someone's at the door for you!"

He huffs, burying his hostility for later when he gets the chance again to pummel this smug alpha's face into the ground. He glares at Donny for a quick second, stating his imminent revenge, before hurrying up the stairs to his porch and inside the house. _"Someone's at the door for you"_? Nobody ever really comes to see Louis, so who the hell could this be?

Louis pries open the door and... sees nobody.

There's nobody here!

Louis peers around the edges of the door frame, seeing if the person decided to hide and jump-scare Louis, but finds no one. He sighs angrily and closes the door.

"Very funny, mum!" he says loudly.

"Very funny what?" his mum asks innocently once Louis walks into the kitchen.

Louis gestures- _exasperated_ -towards the front door. "Telling me that someone waiting for me! There's no one there, mum."

His mum frowns, plastering confusion on her face. "There's no one there?"

"No, there's not. You can go look yourself, but when I was there, I saw no one."

His mum looks to her guests as if for help, but then looks back to Louis and shakes her head, clearing at loss. "When I answered the door, someone was there."

"Probably someone playing a prank on us," Louis mutters as he steps back outside, sliding the door closed behind him.

Nice. His mum must've been mad at Louis for storming off earlier and decided to make a fool of him. Yeah, that's probably it. She said she didn't want her guests to believe he's a bad kid, but by faking that someone's waiting at the door for him?- That just makes her look stupid.

Hmf.

Louis stomps down the wooden steps and pads bare-footed onto the spiky grass of his backyard. "False alarm. Nobody was there. Mum was playing a prank on me."

Donny folds his strong arms across his chiseled chest and stares down at Louis - unimpressed. "For an omega, you really got some mouth on you, don't you, Louis?"

Louis snarls at him. "As in by mouth you mean I refused to be made a fool of in front of others by my mother?"

"It was probably one of your dumass friends playing a prank on you," Donny says.

Louis points a warning finger at the alpha. "Don't you ever talk about my friends. You don't know my friends, and you certainly don't talk shit about them either."

"Better watch the mouth," Donny growls, "'cause it'll get you in trouble one of these days."

"Oh, as if you're going to do something about it?" Louis teases belligerently, then narrows his eyes at his bickering guest. "You can't touch me, douche."

"I can tell your mum about this unnatural behaviour."

"Gonna tattle on me?" Louis snips.

Donny shrugs. "It doesn't matter to me which way you see it, but do you really think your mum would want to know how her _omega_ son disrespected her guest at her own house?"

"I knew you'd be an ass."

"I'm not an ass, sweetheart," Donny rebukes, "I'm just being an alpha. And while I'm at it, why don't you try being an omega for once? It'd make everything a whole lot _easier_."

"The hell are you talking about?"

Donny smirks maliciously. "You being a polite and _not_ stubborn omega."

"It's my personality," Louis retorts, "I can't change that."

"Yes, you can. You're just denying who you really are."

"Well maybe I don't like being a submissive _bitch!_ "

"Nobody said you had to be."

"You're most certainly on your way to saying that, you shit- !"

Louis stops mid-insult at the abrupt, interrupting sound of the back gate squeaking open. Both Louis and Donny jerk towards the direction of the gate, watching as the handle rattles. It's locked. Louis' mum always locks the gate.

The black, metal handle sits for a moment, silence overlapping the area when suddenly the entire door slams open. It hangs limply on its hinges for a brief second before offically clipping off and clattering onto the grass. Louis flinches, backing away a step instinctively from the ruckus. He stares- _bewildered_ -at the broken entrance as a man whom Louis does not recognize strolls in without regards of the dismantled piece of property.

The first thing Louis notices is the odd behaviour of the person. His face is placid and his form walks with a steady, unconcerned ease, which would seem natural except for the fact that his arms simply hang by his sides unmoving. Normally a person's arms swing when walking, but in this guy's case, the pendulum balance is strangely not required, and it just makes him look odd - robotic almost.

The stranger's brown eyes roam the area before landing on Louis. Louis is stung with fear when the man suddenly starts to approach him, walking with a menacing shadow tracing behind his features. He stops before Louis and just stands there, staring at him, then says in a colourless tone, "Louis Tomlinson?"

Louis' eyes bulge. _How does this guy know my name?_ A clutter of words worry on his lips as he struggles whether or not to say something. This man is a stranger... but he looks to be alpha, and alphas have the ability to tell when someone is lying or not (much to Louis' jealousy), so if Louis takes the chance and lies to him, he's risking dangerous trouble.

Still, it just slips out. "Y-Yes...?"

In an instant, the man reaches towards Louis and grabs harshly onto his collar. Louis shrieks immediately, attempting to fight against the man's grip, but to no avail. The man is unbothered by every single punch and kick Louis throws at him. It's just as useful as hitting a solid brick wall - literally.

"Hey! Let him go!"

The man suddenly stops, though Louis remains trapped in his iron fist, and then there comes an abrupt thud from above, followed by pained groaning from... Donny? Did Donny just _punch_ this guy? And if so, why did it only hurt him? Like, bone-on-bone collision can and does hurt, but the guy that's holding Louis captive didn't even _flinch_ nor emit a peep indicating his pain. In fact, it doesn't even seem like the guy received _any_ pain from the punch.

Louis shivers when he looks up at the stranger. He's staring beyond Louis, his body solid and motionless like a statue. It doesn't even look like he's breathing...

Louis twists his head over his shoulder. Donny is currently cradling his injured hand which... looks rather red. He's not bleeding, but from Louis' perspective, it does look nasty - perhaps even broken. But... you can't just break your hand from punching someone in the face... can you?

Donny looks up suddenly, glaring daggers, then rushes toward them with his other fist hoisted maliciously. Louis is abruptly dropped, plonking onto the hard ground like a ton of bricks. He squeaks at the impact, but looks up just in time to see Donny half-way hurtling his fist toward the man when suddenly the man tosses his arm, the action resembling someone swatting at a fly; swift and annoyed. However, for this man, it was full of power as Donny went soaring like a bullet through the air, crash-landing into the barricading fence, shattering it as he disappears into the pile of wooden pieces.

Louis' body tenses icily. He tries to process what the _hell_ just happened, but before that he tells himself that this stranger is nothing but danger and that he needs to get away from him as soon as possible before he too becomes the fly.

Louis scrambles away from the man, desperately searching the area for somewhere to escape, but he can't find anything - not where he is - not without coming in contact with the baleful man. Louis nearly screams when the man's head stirs and his eyes lock on Louis. He walks towards the gravelling omega and grabs onto his collar again, causing Louis let out a pealing cry again. Louis, upon quick realization, worms his way out of his jacket and manages to slip away from the man who doesn't realize Louis has escaped until the weight offically leaves.

The man turns back to Louis -who is now standing and about to run- and strolls back over to him - unperturbed. Louis attempts to seize his escape by running around (because where the hell else is he supposed to go?) and hopefully out the back door, but he's thwarted immediately when the same hand fists in his hair. Louis shrieks, not given the chance this time to fight since he's immeditately yanked backwards and guided forcefully by the man.

"What the hell is going on out- ?!"

Louis is only given a glimpse of his mother running out into the backyard before he is pulled into the front yard. He scratches at the man's hand, gripping and trying to tear it off from the roots of his scalp, but it's futile. He's suddenly released into a car - _his_ car- where he rolls onto the leather backseats before getting a grip. But by the time he does, the door has already been sealed. He hurriedly tries to pry it open, but the child locks seem to have been activated. He tries the other door, but it's the same situation.

The man appears in the driver's door, slamming it shut and igniting the car without keys. Louis watches -in shock- as the man literally shatters the plastic wall with only his fist and twists the knob, turning on the car. _Holy shit_ , Louis marvels - officially terrified.

Louis sees his mum and family burst out the front door, crying and screaming as the car backs out of the driveway, pulling out into the road. Louis smacks on the glass, but it doesn't break. He's trapped in a car with a stranger being carried away somewhere unknown.

Oh, God... he's being _kidnapped!_

Louis desperately tries to find something- _anything!_ -that can free him from this car (he can pay for the damages _after_ he survives this - _if_ he ever gets the car back, that is... or _if_ he even survives this), but he finds nothing useful. His mum always prefers a clean car; every toy and scrap is to be brought inside the house and thrown away ( _"I won't have my car a mess because of some lazy kids who can't clean up after themselves!"_ ). So, consequently, that means that there is literally _nothing_ to help Louis in here.

"Louis Tomlinson," the man says, "I insist that you put your seatbelt on."

Louis is appalled... yet still terrified of this "person," so he doesn't say anything. Yet, in his form of silent retaliation, Louis just sits there, unbothered to obey the man's order.

" _Now_."

Okay. That's enough coercion for him.

Louis scurries to strap his seatbelt on while simultaneously shivering in trepidation. He misses buckling the belt several times due to his quivering hands before actually fixing it into the slot.

Five minutes pass of Louis just waiting for nothing while this parlous stranger drives him around without an fixed destination - at least non that Louis' aware of. His feet play with each other and his fingers twine together, both out of sheer anxiety. When he finally does gather the guts to say something, it comes out squeaky and very timid.

"Wh-What 'r you g-gonna do to m-me?"

The man response is solemn. "I have been programmed to protect you."

_Programmed?_ Louis dismisses the odd use of language for now and focuses on the guy's response. _Protect me?_ "Wh-Why are you p-protecting me?" Louis asks. _I feel in danger just being_ near _you_ , he thinks.

"You have been targetted for termination."

Louis blinks. "I've... been targeted... for _what?_ "

"For termination."

Louis takes a minute to try and absorb all the information. His mind jams, unable to process anthing this stranger just said. "Wha- wh-who wants to... terminate me?" Louis' tongue fizzles with the use of the peculiar word.

"A T-800 sent from the year 2029."

Louis' eyes widen. "A _what?_ "

"A T-800."

"Uhm... yeah, what exactly is a T-800?"

"A T-800 is of the Cyberdyne System Model 101 Series 800 Terminator."

Louis pauses, bemused. "Er... is there any way you could perhaps dumb that down, please?"

"A T-800 is a endoskeleton machine concealed by living human tissue."

Louis mulls over that -a little shaken up- for a moment. "You mean like... a _robot?_ "

"No. A cyborg."

"But w-we haven't built that sort of technology yet!" Louis cries, realizing- _shit_ -he's gotten himself kidnapped by a _psychopath!_

"No. Not now."

"What?"

"T-800s cannot be made in this time. They are to be created by Skynet in the year 2029 after Judgement Day."

Louis bursts out into tears. "Just please... let me _go!_ "

"Negative. My mission is to assure your survival."

" _Wh-why-y-y?!_ " Louis sobs, curling into himself on the seat and hugging his legs to his chest.

"You birth the leader of the Human Resistance in the war against the machines after Judgement Day."

_BIRTH??!!_ Louis snaps his head up so fast it gives him head rush. Wait a second... Did he just say...? "B-birth?! Y-You mean like- ?!"

"You give birth to the leader of the Human Resistance in the war against the machines after Judgement Day."

Louis groans in annoyance at this man's very weird way of speaking. "But... I don't want to have children."

"Your delivery of the Human Resistance leader is inevitable."

Louis feels like screaming. " _No!_ Y-You're _crazy!_ I don't believe you!"

"Negative. My mechanical system disallows me from a chemical imbalance."

Louis slowly raises his head from his hands and stares at the man through the car mirror. _Mechanical.... system? What?_

"You... what are you?"

"I am a T-800 specifically programmed to protect you and Harry Styles."

Fear sprinkles through Louis' blood. "Are you saying you're... a cyborg, too?" Then he realizes the last part of his answer (for which massacres more of Louis' brain cells), "and who is _Harry Styles?_ "

"Yes, and Harry Styles is your mate."

_Shit_. "Mate?" Louis gasps, "you mean I'm supposed to.... "

"You are to bear Harry Styles' child and give birth to the leader of the Human Resistance in the war against the machines after Judgement Day."

"Oh my God..."

Louis folds his hands over his face again, curling into himself again and tips slightly on his bum. He slowly feels his sanity drain with every comment about the future and cyborgs from this psycopath. And he's supposed to give birth to the leader of the "Human Resistance"? What the _HELL??!_ And who is Harry Styles? And who ever made these rules that _Louis_ has to be the one to-

Oh God. He can't believe he's actually _thinking_ about it - as if he actually _believes_ this guy.

... Then again, there's no way a human could smack an alpha and send him flying through the air into a fence like this guy did to Donny just a few minutes ago. Also, this guy's English and body gestures are far beyond the normal person's way of acting. He's robotic, he's... a cyborg- ?

No, that can't be.

... Can it? Louis couldn't deny that he had seen it all with his own naked eyes. Again, a human could _not_ ever do what this guy just did to Donny; the energy of the impact is simply impossible, especially in just one slap.

Louis sighs, resting his tired head against his knees. "Just... please, don't hurt me."

"Negative. My mission is to protect you."

"I know," Louis says - fruitless, "you said that."

"You keep bringing it up."

Louis snickers bitterly. "What, is humour part of your program, too?"

"What is 'humour'?"

Louis shakes his head. "Forget it. Just... forget it."

"Negative. My processors disallow me from erasing memory."

Louis groans. "You really are a cyborg, aren't you?"

"Affirmative."

The omega rubs his palms over his face. "I can't believe this is happening to me..."

"I have located Harry Styles in Holmes Chapel, Cheshire. It will take approximately two hours and eight minutes to get there," the.... cyborg ( _God, that sounds weird_ , Louis thinks) tells him.

"I am _not_ going to have sex with this guy," Louis states firmly, "and you can't make me."

"I am irrelevant to such an action, Louis Tomlinson. Your intercourse and conceiving with the human, Harry Styles, will be aquired in your own time."

" _No_ ," Louis argues with gritted teeth, "it _won't_ , and I'm _never_ gonna be... p-pregnant." The last word rolls foully off Louis' tongue.

"Negative. Your body is of the perfect breeding age."

"Can you stop saying 'negative'?!" Louis bellows.

"I do not understand."

"Just, you saying 'negative' is giving me chills, okay?"

"There is a blanket in the trunk of this vehicle that will aid conserving the temperature from your body."

"No! I meant the meta- oh, wait, you don't understand that stuff, do you?"

"What 'stuff'?"

"Of course..."

"I do not understand."

"Just... please be quiet."

"Affirmative."

And for once in his life, Louis would rather be at home cleaning the house in the typical, old-fashioned omega gear (skirt and blouse) and also be flirting with that dickhead, Donny, right now than be here trapped in his family vehicle with this "cyborg" guy from the future who is _adamant_ about the idea that Louis will mate with and be impregnated by this random stranger who lives two hours and eight minutes away.

As if _that's_ going to happen. Louis' not gonna let _anyone_ touch him as far as he's concerned, and there's no way the fate of the future is going to make him choose otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... another fanfic! YAY!
> 
> ... Yay...?
> 
> Er... so what'd you guys think? 
> 
> Not too mad, are you? You think I should continue, or...? :/


	2. нυnтed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Styles, a famous alpha singer and the cynosure of adoring omegas worldwide, has been targeted for termination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would've been able to post this chapter a lot sooner, but the cursed weather decided to block off our power and I was unable to reach Wi-Fi for a few hours, and it takes me about a half hour to post a chapter with edits and notes and stuff, you know? It also depends how long a chapter is... but ANYWAY!
> 
> Enjoy! And also, thank-you SOOOO MUCH for dealing with my tardiness for past few weeks :D I've been quite ridiculous, haven't I? Well, I'll tell you.... IT'S FINALLY HERE! CHAPTER TWO! YAY! DIDN'T THINK I'D EVER MAKE IT THIS FAR, HUH? WELL, I PROVED YOU WRONG! HAHA!

 

Harry Styles has agreed that being famous has its perks... and its flaws. His friends have always teased Harry for his cheeky mishaps and behaviours because with a face like _that_ , who couldn't love him?

And they were right.

Harry knows it, and everyone else knows it, too: the only reason that Harry is as famous as he is is all thanks to that deletable face and body of his. He has a splendid voice -no doubt about that-, but Harry would be lying to himself if he thought that the reason the majority of his fans liked him is because of his music. Ninety-nine percent of the fanbase are omegas; what else is there to say?

Even though the fame is what Harry has always dreamed of, he sometimes wishes he could find a special omega without having to deal with all the incessant death threats targetted by the fandom towards his mate. It's also always the reason omegas keep leaving him; they simply just get fed up with all the unnecessary hate. It's frustrating for Harry - it really is. It's like he's being thwarted from a real life, and it's all because some sixteen-year-old is furiously jealous. Harry's tried to clarify that he can't be with _everyone_ , but his attempts are always thrown out the windows. There are those few who understand, yet the hostility from the envious side of the fandom is irrevocable.

Harry feels horrid whenever he feels an ounce of detest towards his fans, but it just gets so... _difficult_ sometimes. It's like he no longer has any _choice_ , that he's trapped in a box for the rest of his life. The alpha just hopes that after all the fame and cynosure dies off, he can finally settle down with a lovely omega and start a family.

His _own_ family... how nice would that be?- To settle down with a mate and take care of pups, watching their cherub faces crinkle with smiles as they patter around the house with toothy grins and peals.

Yes, that would be nice.

Sometimes (actually, he thinks about it constantly), Harry wonders what his mate looks like, and just how exactly s/he is like. Hopefully his mate would want pups just as much as he does.

 

 

☨      ❦      ☨

 

 

Police officers lounge idly in the Cheshire Constabulary, nibbling on their frosting donuts and sipping at their coffee-filled mugs as they prattle and guffaw with their officer friends without a worry in the world when suddenly a strange surge in the lighting of their room flutters dully.

A few officers raise their chins and stir their heads curiously up at the ceiling lights. It's not natural for surges to happen in the police station, and the only other times one did was when a tornado had introduced itself to the small town of Holmes Chapel, Cheshire a few years back. The officers snort and assume the surge was meaningless (nothing more than a few pesky birds messing with the wires outside) when suddenly the lights blink again, this time blacking out for a full second.

The officers arise from their cushions and murmur to each other upon what could possibly be going on when the power dies down completely. Instinctively, the officers slip out their guns from their belts and dart the weapon in front of them - cautious and (surreptitiously) paranoid. The sounds of rookie officers in the other rooms panicking drifts into this one, feeding the air with trepidation, though the older, more mature officers remain unfazed, searching the area with alert.

Then the air sparks coolly, sizzling the skin of the officers like the touch of cold static.

The officers lower their guns slightly to gaze in the same direction, marveling dreadfully as a single ball of unfathomable energy collects in a spot in the open space of the room. Branches of baby-blue electricity then outstretch from the burgeoning ball of energy, immediately becoming more aggressive and longer. The officer quickly back away from the strange thing, pointing their guns at it, readying themselves. The electricity seems to reach for the officers, as if yearning for their flesh when all of a sudden the static arms enclose back towards the globe-sized ball of scorching blue energy. The officers shield their eyes as the ball balloons even further and -with an inaudible pop- warps away with a singe half-second flash. The ceiling lights then return to their original glow as if nothing had ever happened.

The officers hesitantly peek at the results of the energy ball. There, burnt hotly like black lava rocks into the hard floor, smokes a seething circle containing a man bend over -naked and unharmed- inside the unexplainable thing. As the gray clouds hiss away, the young man slowly ascends, head held low yet unintimidated. He lifts his head into the earth's air, though he does not breathe it in. With his eyes closed, his nose casts upward like a tranquil eagle. He does not seem to care for the armed officers in front of him.

The officers stare at the man- _bewildered_ -while their guns quiver in their fists. Supernatural? Alien? They would never know, for the strange man had a distaste for their presence and he immediately picked up on their emptiness of value to him.

The man opens his eyes, his aesthetic irises blazing with a liquid-lava colour before fixing to a more human-natural dark brown. He is beautiful - male-model worthy. His skin is a fair tan and his hair is raven-black and sweeps upward in fine spikes. His bare body is toned and lean, and though he is obviously not a body-builder, he is dangerous. He stares darkly at the humans in navy-blue clothes as they despair upon his malice.

"D-Drop to your knees!" one of the officers bravely hollers.

The man does not conform, nor does he care; he simply strolls over to the officers, unfazed as they shoot desperately at him. His body shrouds the wounds upon the bullet fires instantaneously, his skin stitching together and gluing within a second of the shot. He reaches towards the one officer and holds his neck, robbing the gun with his other hand as the officer struggles against the inhumanely tight grip. The man then silences the other officers with practised, individual fires to their foreheads, causing them all to sink like ragdolls to the dusty floor.

The man, with a placid face, wheels the officers in his grasp back around to face him up close. The officer wrestles, desperately trying to release himself from the claws of the superhuman, but to no avail. He could not _compare_ to this stranger's strength, nor put up a worthy battle against it - not as a feeble human. And with a swift turn of the man's thumb, the officer's head snaps to the side with a concluding _CRACK_ and his body droops instantly, eyes open and dead.

The man drops the human like an unwanted toy and then scans the room. His sensors quickly catch the pair of size-suitable clothes to match his form on one of the deceased officers' body and ambles over, quick to peel them off and slip them onto himself.

After he finishes the uniform, the man turns around and scans the room again, finding valuable weapons in the drawers. He saunters over and tears off the locked drawer, ignoring the clatter of the object as they somersault across the floor, and retrieves the _wanted_ weapons that fluidly tumble out into his awaiting hands. He snatches a belt from one of the dead officers' waist and fits it around his slender one snugly, stashing his newly-found weapons there.

The man walks out into the halls of the station with a calm stride. The other officers give him no heed as they scurry the hallways, chatting incessantly, automatically assuming him to be simply just another policeman upon seeing his uniform. The name tag, "ZAYN," reflects under the glare of the ceiling lights as the man eases out of the station and into the daylight. He plonks on the leather seat of a motorcycle, his surprisingly heavy weight causing it to sway irregularly for a moment, and -with a small, futuristic spark off the tip of his index finger into the key slot- fools the vehicle into igniting. He grips the handles and drives off with the vehicle and down the road.

His mission reads in his head: " **TERMINATE HARRY STYLES**."

And he will stop at nothing until he does.

 

 

☨      ❦      ☨

 

 

Harry Styles sits lethargically on a very expensive leather couch in his dressing room, head back and rested as he surfs through his Twitter notifications. The corner of his rosy lips twitch upward as he reads the admirations of his devoted fans. Though, his tired eyes are not so in-tune, and they plead for him to close his lids and _rest_. Truly, Harry wishes he could -he _really_ does- but there is an interview in only ten minutes, and he can't be exhausted on _live TV_ ; that's just like picking your nose at a friend's family dinner.

The door raps with two knocks. Harry hollers the permission of entry and in no less than a second does the person barge in. Harry looks up from his phone. It's his body guard, Paul. 'Course it's Paul.

"Time to go, Harry," Paul says, standing aside to allow Harry space to exit.

Oh, yeah. Harry is always forced to go and get ready ten minutes _before_ the interview starts. He blinks as he stands, questioning his decision to do this over making this his day off (to sleep, of course!), but then remembers his boss's stern glare, and sighs, dragging his feet out the open door with a fuzzy brain and sore muscles. _Must do this for fans_ , Harry reminds himself, _stop acting like a wimp_.

He is escorted by a sympathetic Paul (his body guard is the one person who knows just how _overwhelming_ Harry's job can be considering how much time he spends with him) over to the colourful couch in the interview area and gestures him to sit. Harry does so enthusiastically.

The young alpha rubs his palms up and down his face. His mind urges for sleep, but he fights stubbornly. _Shit_ , if only he had a _coffee_...

A perky Lou Teasdale -his hair stylist- appears in front of him, kneeling on the balls of her feet. "Hey, Harry."

Harry gives her a dopey smile. "Hey."

Lou does not reply; instead, she reaches up and brushes back the fringe of Harry's lengthy locks - a motherly gesture that Harry purrs into. He hasn't seen his mum for months, so Lou -already a mother- is the closest he has to Anne for now.

She frowns sadly. She really does wish they'd give Harry some more time for rest; he's a young boy who needs his sleep; if this continues, his health will become a serious issue. Harry never questions his management though, too focused on keeping them happy; however, Lou can see they are only taking advantage of his benevolence. For an alpha, Harry is more kind and yielding than he is dominant and proud. It's quite surprising actually, especially when one sees his _tall_ , strong form.

Lou glides the pad of her thumb across Harry's cheekbone. She watches as his eyes flutter sleepily, and notices with horror just how _red_ his eyes are, though she doesn't comment on it... not _yet_.

"Ready, Harry?"

Lou recognizes that voice anyway: it's Harry's boss, though she shall not think his name. Simply the _sound_ of his name stews a sickening feeling in her gut.

Harry nods. "Yes, sir."

Lou frowns. She breathes, mustering her courage as she turns up at and tells him, "I do not think Harry is in proper condition to do this interview."

Harry's boss blinks increduously at Lou. "I'm sorry?"

Lou inhales sharply. "His _eyes_ ," she says, gesturing to Harry's reddened feature, "they're red."

"So?"

Lou sighs - aggravated. " _So_ ," she says, "that means he's not in proper condition. He's exhausted, and with all due respects, sir, I strongly recommend that you _stop_ this interview and allow this young man to _rest_."

The sturdy man leans down towards Lou's face, sneering. "I do not take orders from _omegas_ ," he tells her, smothering her with his Alpha Voice. "Mr. Styles is under contract with me, and unless he's seizuring on the floor or whacked out on drugs, I will allow this interview to happen whether he _likes_ it- " He leans closer, " -or _not_."

Lou reluctantly nods. With the Alpha Voice now in effect, she is unable to disobey orders.

Harry's boss strolls off with a swagger and Lou turns back to Harry, sighing sadly. She strokes his cheek. "I'm sorry, hun. I tried."

Harry shakes his head. "No, it's fine. It was useless anyway."

"I hate what he does to you though," she says, her face tightening at the castigating thought of the man.

"It's okay," Harry drawls, smiling lazily.

Lou's brows knit as she smiles at him. "No," she says, "it's not." She kisses him on the nose, then pulls away to look at him. "He abuses his power over you, and that's not right, Harry."

Harry doesn't reply.

"I'll be in the back watching you, kay?"

Harry nods. "Kay."

After Lou leaves, Harry practises pasting on his casual face - the one that doesn't make it obvious that he's _dying_ for sleep. His vision falters occassionally, but he simply rubs it off and forcefully composes himself. The female interviewer sits in front of him a few minutes later, dolled up and hideous with make-up, and introduces herself to him. Harry musters a friendly, cheeky grin on his face as he shakes her hand and starts small-talk before the interview fires up.

So, as always, Harry grits his teeth and nails on a smile and does as he's told.

 

 

☨      ❦      ☨

 

 

After the interview, Harry is back in his dressing room cemented to the sofa. After collapsing onto the soft, cushion-y object, his body has absolutely _refused_ to detach from it. He feels heavy almost - like a boulder. The mere thought of standing up has Harry in a twine of dismay and resent. _At least an hour, please?_ he hopes.

To his horror, the door of his dressing room creaks open. Footfalls mutter as the person saunters into the room slowly.

"Jus'... please... fve mre mnutes," Harry slurs languidly.

There's a snort. "Laying on the job now, are we?"

Harry nearly groans at the familiar tone of _jackass_ and a nosey-parker - it's his boss.

Like Lou, Harry doesn't even like _mentioning_ his name - not even in his _mind!_ It's been dissolved to "He Who Must Not Be Named." If it weren't for the binding contract for which he foolishly signed off to, Harry would've left this management a _long_ time ago. It hadn't been until the five-month mark when he realized how much of a money-greedy _ass_ his boss was. Harry had spent days sulking in his mistake (it was quite pathetic, actually), but then finally drove himself to the disappointing conclusion that he'd have to deal with this rat for at least _five more years_ before he was officially free to make his own choice. Harry had already come up with a few satisfying things to say to his boss when the time comes when the man will have nothing on him.

His boss huffs dominantly. "I _said_ \- "

"Yss," Harry snaps, "I 'm." He urges his eyes open and -with all his might- heaves himself up to sitting position, ignoring his sore muscles as they scream in protest. His vision flutters and sways fuzzily as he attempts to perceive his boss. And finally, like the lens on a camera, it clears.

He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named glares at the young, weary alpha before him. "Hold your tongue, Styles. I have a surprise for you today." He grins, twirling around and strolling to the door.

When the door swings open, Harry sighs irritably.

"Harry, I want you to meet someone."

 

 

Harry had only met Taylor Swift once before, and that was at Central Park Zoo - an innocent get-together (for which both their bosses forced them to do). Neither had a say in the deal, so Harry had built nothing short of resent to the female omega since he knew this wasn't her fault; however, looking at her now... she looks entirely guilty, yet shows no shame. Her shadowy appearance only adds to the uncomfortable feeling churning in Harry gut right now.

"Obviously you two have already met," He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named says smugly ( _I'll kill you in your sleep_ , Harry thinks maliciously), "but I thought it'd be nice if you two perhaps spent a little less _public_ time together and a little more... _alone_ time."

Harry frowns up at his boss. "Sir, please, any other time would be a better time than this one."

"What's wrong with now?" Taylor implies, slender hand rested on her narrow hip.

"I- "

"Harry here is just feeling a little _shy_ ," his boss quickly shoves in, "but it's wear off the more time you spend with each other I'm sure. Besides, have you _seen_ how cheeky this boy is?"

That's a lie. Harry's nature resents cheekiness... well, it's been more recent with the more omegas his boss keeps flocking in for him. The alpha has yet to find "the spark" in an omega, yet non of his bachelorettes have ignited that passionate flame in him yet. He remains as a loveless stone, and he figures he'll carry this disease until the end of his contract - perhaps even _after_ that. Love doesn't come as a gift; it's found on one's own terms. And it seems every omega in the world is being delivered right to him like some package. It disgusts Harry.

Harry's boss has constructed the image of Harry being a cheeky sex symbol to omegas all around the globe. It makes him feel nothing more than a piece of meat being teased over a herd of lions. It's not a very nice feeling, Harry'll say that.

The conversation ends just like every other one: Harry's boss leaves the room and allows Harry to be alone with a voluptuous, make-up-caked omega.

Taylor plops graciously beside a tired Harry and purrs as she slyly scoots closer to him. Okay, _what's_ going on?

"Taylor," Harry says - stony, "did they put you up to this?" "

Huh?"

"I mean, like... did your boss force you into this?- because, by all means, we _really_ don't have to do this - do anything, really."

Taylor smiles. "No, Harry," she whispers, leaning closer, her blood-red lips haunting him, "I chose this for _myself_."

"Taylor," Harry says, grunting as he slithers away from her, "it's not- "

"I want this, Mr. Styles," she insists, following the alpha's maneuvers to slide away from her; she simply swallows the space between them with seductive crawls and a hungry demeanor. She looms her cherry-coloured lips towards the shell of the alpha's ear, and as Harry cringes, she whispers flirtatiously, "I want _you_."

In that instant, Harry hurries to his feet and escapes around to the large window behind the couch. His mind is in turmoil - what is he supposed to do _now?_ Taylor is making an tenacious advance towards him, and he has no experience with _these_ kinds of encounters. Most omegas would simply whine, but eventually accept the refusal; Taylor doesn't appear to be at all accepting of a rejection from Harry right now; lust writes in her eyes, and Harry's already scared of the imminence of her plans.

"Harry," he hears Taylor sings coquettishly - then scarily changes to hostile and serious, "that _better've_ been an act of shyness."

Harry swallows thickly. "Taylor, I am not- "

"But you _are_ ," Taylor presses, looming beside him. Her presence stabs fear in Harry's furious heart, and also oozes a nauseous wrenching in his stomach. "You spoke to me once about how you desire an omega in your life." Her sylphlike fingers flatten against Harry's breast. "Well, I have thought about it... and I think- "

" _Taylor_ ," Harry says again, this time more forceful as he (gently) pries off Taylor's hand, "I'm sorry, but... it's just not..." He steps away from her, raking a hand through his baggy locks. _Just reject her, dammit!_ he yells at himself, but somehow a part of him writhes with guilt at refusing Taylor. Being friends with her previously doesn't help the situation.

" _What_ , Harry?" Taylor growls, "am I not _good_ enough for you?"

"Please don't think of it that way, Taylor," Harry mutters, turning to face her and frowns.

Taylor stares at him darkly for a moment, then smirks. "Mmm... perhaps, then, you would prefer a _different_ view of me."

" _NO_ , I _really_ \- "

"No, Harry," Taylor pushes, "I _want_ this."

"But I..." He huffs. "I'm sorry, Taylor," he tells her, "but I don't - it doesn't feel right." He steers towards the door, ignoring Taylor as she protests angrily. "I'm sorry," he apologizes once more before hurrying out the door and into the golden-lit hallways.

 

 

☨      ❦      ☨

 

 

The man, Zayn, roves along the streets on the stolen motorcycle when his clever hearing suddenly picks up on a conversation between (from where his calculations can be based upon the tone of the voices) two young males.

"... see Harry Styles yesterday?"

"Yeah, the poor guy looked like _death_ , man."

"Did you get to meet him?"

"Hell no! His bodyguards were like moths; they blocked him away from everyone. I was lucky I could get a _glimpse_ of the guy."

"My girlfriend's in love with him... really pisses me off sometimes..."

" _Ha!_ That's your own problem, man."

Zayn locates the two a few feet ahead and slows down near them, heedlessly travelling onto the sidewalk where he nearly runs over an old lady. The boys don't notice Zayn until he halts right in front of them. The two stop to stare increduously as Zayn fluidly steps off of the vehicle and stands in front of them. His dark eyes seem to scorch into the boys' souls. "Where is Harry Styles?" he asks flatly.

The two boys take a moment to absorb the question, then, upon realizing that _this_ is the urgency of this stranger's arrival, they burst into a frenzy of snorts and cackles. Zayn simply stares at them, unswayed by their derision. Not even the fact that these two adolescents were built huskier and more taller than him deterred him. It would surely be an easy match for them if a fight were to ensue. 'Course, if all three were _human_ , that is.

"Whoo, buddy!" the one adolescent -the taller one- guffaws, "you high or somethin'?"

"Yeah," the friend concurs, "'cause I think the parking lot is over there, bub - not on the freakin' _sidewalk_."

Zayn doesn't even blink. "Where is Harry Styles?"

"Jesus, man, you're talking about a celebrity here," the tall one tells him, "like, you know, the ones who everyone wants to meet...?- That never stick around in one place...?"

"What makes _you_ so special, _huh?_ " the other chips in - mocking, "you'd think if we knew where Styles was, we'd be horsing around out here instead of seekin' him out?"

"That sounds weird, bro," the taller one mutters to his friend. "Have you forgotten we aren't omegas? We're just betas, and you've told me on one or more occassions that you're _straight_."

"Well, hey, I grew up _with_ omegas, so that stuff's kinda rubbed off on me."

The taller one gives his friend a disturbed face.

 

_(This isn't actually him; it's just his expression)_

 

"Whatever, and, hey," he says to Zayn, "how did you _know_ we were talking about Harry Styles anyway?"

The other friend catches onto that thought and deliberates, realizing, _yeah_ , how _did_ this random guy know what they were talking about? He was driving a freaking motorcycle down the _road_ ; the only way he would've been able to hear them is if he was wearing some super high-tech spy equipment or some shit like that.

Instead, Zayn repeats the same exact question to them in the same exact tone like a bloody broken record.

"Hey, buddy, you cruising for a bruis- "

But upon the teen's rising hand, Zayn immediately estimates an intent for violence from the male, and acts swiftly, snaring the teen's wrist into his fist and delivers a warning to the teen with a physical message, crushing the dainty bones (to him they are dainty) dangerously near the line of breaking them, but does not actually breaking the teen's hand. The teen immediately shrieks in pain and surprise, yowling as he instinctively attempts to pry himself free, but fails.

The other friend attempts to assist his hurting friend by bowling a punch at the stranger's face, but Zayn notices the assault before it occurs and manages to throw his arm in time to cast the teen hurtling through the air and into a nearby alleyway where he isn't greeted very nicely to the hard floor (and a few aluminums trash cans).

The teen trapped in Zayn's grasp stares owlishly at the unraveling scene before his eyes. Impulsively, he then squirms even harder, desperate to flee from this malicious officer. Zayn decides to cease the worming human's struggles with a hard stab to the sidewalk, the teen's ribs and spine create a nasty crunch in connection the hard ground, but ostly it was the haste and power of the slam that battered him, and he wails a bloody-curling wail.

Zayn is unperturbed. He just ghosts closer to the teen's face intimidatingly. He keeps his palm planted solidly on the teen's feeble chest, careful not to exert too much pressure and consequently snap his ribcage, but just enough to keep the male confined in place on the cement.

"Where is the human, Harry Styles?" Zayn asks again.

The teen bothers not with the fact that this guy just referred to another person as "human" and instead flails, attempting once again to break free from the grasp as he tugs desperately at the man's wrist. Zayn is not irritated -he does not understand emotion- but his processors have indicated that in order to uncage the answer he requires from this obstinate human, he must inject more fear into him first. Fear will ease the answer out more quickly and efficiently.

Zayn moves his hand to the teen's throat, emitting a small amount of pressure on the trachea. The teen responds with a choking noise, but he thankfully seems to understand the point of the harming threat.

"Okay, okay, _okay!_ I'll t-tell you! He- _agh!_ -Harry was- I s-saw him near C-Cranage Hall! I-I saw him heading there!" he says - distraught. And, upon the added pressure, he pipes out, "I-It's on- _ugh!_ -Byley Lane! P-Please! Tha-at's all I know! I swear!"

The teen then gasps a saliva-spitting breathe of oxygen when the vice grip on his neck is released. Zayn arises swiftly, sauntering back over to the motorcycle. Without an ounce of remorse, the estranged man drops back onto the vehicle and ignites it, revving off towards "Byley Lane."

His mission dilates again in his head as he snakes down the black road: "TERMINATE HARRY STYLES."

 

 

☨      ❦      ☨

 

 

Harry exasperates a exhale as he traipses outside into a shady alleyway. He'd taken the opposite way of the front door since it was a dangerous possibility he would be spotted or even recognized by a few people. Last time he looked (which was through the screen of his dressing room window) fans of his were flocking that way outside, anticipating his exit. It's not that Harry wanted nothing to do with them -he adores his fans- but with the noises of elated frenzy from the omegas outside would consequently alert his boss and dump him into trouble. He's already worried -leaving without permission- as he knows it, but he _needs_ a breath of fresh, cool air - just for a few minutes.

Feeling the illness of his sleep deprivation swamp through his system, Harry collapses down the prickly brick wall of the building, respiring with his eyes closed. His mind flutters dizzily with weakened cells and his eyes seem to pulse behind his lids. Who knew someone could be this _exhausted_ from two days worth of empty slumber. _No more running_ , his body begs, _just sleep_. And Harry might just be concurring with that tactic.

Four minutes pass, leisuring by as Harry's mind drowns into sleep mode; however, the celebrity props his head up occassionally and beats his eyelids, trying to remain awake. If he fell asleep on the cold, alleyway floor, no doubt he'd be busted. Besides, that's kinda gross - laying on a bed of grime and dust and used gum. But it's until the four minute mark when the grisly sound of motorcycle sneaks in through the stale air of the alleyway.

Harry's conscious immediately becomes startled uneasily. He reluctantly pulls away the curtain of his lids away to lazily roll his head to the side to view the opening of the alleyway, hoping that maybe his glower can cease the roaring, interrupting noise.

 

 

☨       ❦      ☨

 

 

Zayn, now on Byley Lane, spots "Cranage Hall" as a tall building, and it's apparently quite popular at the moment. His system automatically scans the jittery herd of omegas absorbing the space in front of the entrance, causing him to halt by the sidewalk so his sensors can lock onto and decipher the omegas more easily. Non seem to notice him, but for the ones who do, they whisper nervously to their friends nearby as they share snide glances to Zayn.

 **INAPPROPRIATE** , Zayn receives, then automatically peels his focus off one of the female's breasts. He continues to investigate the group, eventually taking interest in a conversation from one of the omegas. His hearing highlights solely on the steady stream of the omega female's words.

"... can't believe you _don't_ have the official Harry Styles screen saver."

"I didn't know there was one!"

"Well, I'll send it to you. Just give me a sec..."

Zayn's sensors immediately stick and glue to the small, rectangular device in the female's hand, observing as the screen lights up, revealing a face of a person. Zayn copies the image, snapping it like a camera, and then props it up in front of his robotic vision, scouring it until a recognizable face appears.

"... Harry Styles?"

"Yeah. It's him."

Processing the claim of the female's words _"It's him,"_ Zayn identifies the human as "Harry Styles." The identity saves to his memory and locks like a bank vault. Zayn then -as he comprehends non of the omegas match the identity- drives off down the street, simultaneously comparing the face to pedestrians strolling by - on the sidewalk or even in cars. Their captured faces -appearing like a boxed picture in Zayn's vision- coruscate red upon their false match, and Zayn moves onto the next.

No one emulates to the "Harry Styles" image's facial features, but Zayn continues through the streets, unaffected by frustration. That is until he comes across an alleyway.

 

 

☨      ❦      ☨

 

 

"... Harry Styles?"

Harry stirs his head instinctively at the mention of his name, lifting his eyes upward as he perceives a face popping out from around the corner of the steel door.

The twenty-something boy -probably someone who works for Harry's boss- blinks down at the drowsy celebrity, baffled at the choice of spot he's chosen to rest. The young beta hops down onto the alleyway floor, ignoring the two-step cement stairs and perches down by Harry, eyes searching and inquisitive.

"What're you doing out _here?_ " the boy asks, genuinely curious. _His boss is probably freaking out right now_ , he figures, suddenly realizing he's gotta get this alpha inside before someone -a fan- sees him. "Er, c'mon," he urges, "we gotta get you inside."

Harry groans, rolling his head away from the boy.

"Please, Harry? Someone might see you. Besides," he adds, "you really think this is a proper place to be sleeping - out of _all_ the places you could be sleeping?"

Harry considers it and... yeah, he's probably right. Even the hard, itchy carpet of his dressing room is better than here.

Harry allows the beta boy to assist him in standing up. He's accustomed to be helped; as a celebrity, people around him are constantly pouring out offers for assistance for him and/or if he needs anything to be fetched for him. And as an alpha, it's only instincts for others -betas and omegas- to desire acceptance from him - to be granted access into his 'pack.' Harry has just learned to smile and thank them for their concern, and maybe give a tip sometimes (he needs to do _something_ with his money).

Harry, forcing away the delirious fairies, thanks the beta and forges his own way back into the building, preparing to face the wrath of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named - if he's even _noticed_ Harry's abscence by now.

 

 

☨      ❦      ☨

 

 

Zayn is only given a second's generosity to distinguish the faces of the two people in the alleyway. The one -the beta male- flashes red, reading as a mismatch, then Zayn locks onto the other.

A confirming green announces the match of identity.

Leaving the motorcycle behind, Zayn begins his _real_ hunt. He stalks down the alleyway towards the two (whom appear to be struggling into the entrance as Harry wobbles), readying the gun from his police belt, cocking it. He locks onto his victim's face once more, the bolded words, " **TERMINATE** ," typing and enlarging in his vision as he hoists the weapon, directing it at Harry Styles.

 

 

☨      ❦      ☨

 

 

A red dot divulges on Harry temple when the beta realizes they have company - unwanted, _malevolent_ company.

" _Harry!_ " the beta cries urgently, his arms wrenching to shove the alpha into the building hurriedly.

And in that moment, time seems to just  _slow_.

Harry wheels his head to the side, his hair following, licking his cheek as he sees the man with the black hair and flat face for the first time. Immediately, cutting through the sleepy haze of his vision, he comprehends a gun, its nose targeted directly at _him_. His survival instincts kick in swiftly as his eyes widen, suddenly bewildered. His heart turns sharply in his chest, and as he's about to rip into the building, a pair of palms on his back sentence him in before he can activate his legs' motion.

Then a shot is heard.

With heavy feet, Harry enters the building. It takes a second for his mind to wrap around the fact that a _bullet_ had just been fired, and if _he_ had been the one to receive it... but his body did not sting - anywhere. He had evaded the shot, but... wait...

Harry whips around just as a thump could be heard from the beta's body flopping to the floor. Petrified shrieks beat dully in the background as Harry gawks down at the boy who just spoke to him five seconds ago, reeling a sense of horror as he drinks in the sight of fresh, crimson blood drooling from a blasted hole in the boy's temple area: a _bullet_ wound. He's dead. Someone was just _shot_.

" _Shit!_ " Harry squeaks, and as he is forced to peer up at the parlous man -gun pointed and hungry for death in his fist- just as he appears darkly by the opening of the entrance, time seems to quicken like the zesty pick-up of Harry's hurting heart.

The screams of scurrying people in the building clear, stabbing right through the tunnels of Harry's ears as he hurries away - fleeing for his life. That's when another shot of the gun can be heard, only yet again is Harry untouched; instead, the bullet enters a man who'd unmeaningly ran in front of Harry, shielding him by accident as he -upon the shot- squawks and drops to the floor.

Harry sprints, bounding around the corner and racing through the hallway, and upon his lungs realizing the apprehensive mood of the situation force his heart hurry up, heating with the fuel of adrenaline. Even if someone had been shot, Harry would've heard, though his objective is firmly focused on finding the building's front entrance and escaping through there. And when he sees those familar morsels of sunlight pouring out from around the corner, his heart leaps with relief.

Then another shot is fired.

 _He's_ _close_ , Harry figures dreadfully, though he doesn't dare turn around to check. His legs carry him hastily through the door, and though his eyes sting with the revelation of the sun's intensity, he continues forward, meandering through the streets like a rabbit escaping a coyote.

Unable to see, Harry raises one hand above his eyes, tenting over and producing enough shade to perceive the possible areas to choose from. The roads... the alleys... the buildings...

No, the _parade!_

Immediately then, Harry's legs thrust forward, heading straight towards the shrouding of the active, boisterous parade of people joying down the black road, demonstrating their talent as onlookers marvel and cheer.

AKA, the perfect hiding place.

... It is perfect, isn't it?

 

 

☨      ❦      ☨

 

 

Zayn locates his target through the mist of the panicking humans, following through the front door with a colourless face that intends for only one thing. Lowering his gun down for less conspicuousness, he strides out through the open door, trooping down the road, heedless of the oncoming cars. The screams of the foreboding citizens in the distance become nothing more than a spec of dust in Zayn's matter of concern. He continues after his absconding target, entering the flurry of humans dancing on the road univited.

 

 

☨      ❦      ☨

 

 

It's one of those times where Harry is reminded about the adrenaline of a chase-and-escape, where his fans scamper after him determinedly while he runs away frantically... only this time, it's not the idea of being _raped_ that scares him; it's the dreadful possibility of being _killed_ that douses him with fear.

With his legs now buring up and failing him, he feels the necessary need to stop. Even with the cooling adrenaline skyrocketing through his system, his legs have still found a way to complain - burning, aching, _exhausted_. Still, he obeys his trepidation and abuses the weary propellers as he ropes through the obstacles of human bodies. Wind breaks through his hair, causing it to whip and dance vigorously behind him. His face; it's chilled and the skin feels strangely tight from the wind's agressive force. As for his clothes... he doesn't even know if they're still _attached_.

Finally, ignoring his dreadful concerns, he peeks over his shoulder. With the masses of people bobbing and swirling in every direction, it's nearly impossible to decipher a single face out of the crowd. Could Harry have actually lost that guy? Is he still in the building searching for him?

Then -somewhere haunting in the distance- appears the man who shot down the beta boy down in cold blood. His facial features are hard and determined, and Harry feels a despairing sizzle course through his veins at the mere sight of it. His blood runs cold for a moment when he assumes he's been spotted, but the man steers his head away, indicating his unawareness of Harry position. Yet, with the close proximity, Harry _knows_ the manhunt still hasn't ceased.

What does this guy want from Harry anyway? _Why_ does he want to kill him? What has Harry ever done to deserve the death penalty? The only bad thing he's ever done in his life would probably be that one time when he was eight and he surreptitiously snatched a rice Krispy square from the kitchen even though his mom told him not to.

When Harry acidentally gets tangled in the midst of the flock of people, he panics. He immediately thrashes to unwind himself, but ends up knocking some people over in the process, receiving indignant yowls from the dancers about how he "ruined" their reputation. He breathes quick apologies to them, but then as his spidey-senses start to tingle, he whirls around to see the same man staring predator-like at him.

Harry ducks hastily just as the man raises the gun and manumits the bullet. Screams respond upon the gunfire as people immediately scramble like ants before the rain. Harry, acting quickly, scurries to his feet, listening to the multiple gun fires again as each attempts to pierce his flesh, but misses. One even skims his jacket (which fries up his nerves), missing by a finger's breadth.

It seems like only a miracle that Harry manages to escape the army of bullets. He hurries away like fleeing gazelle, hoping that the cheetah isn't following him.

 

 

☨      ❦      ☨

 

 

Zayn reloads the gun in his fist as he emerges from the hysteria of the crowd, locating his victim racing down the road. He obeys his log's command and flounces after him, the word " **TERMINATE** " relentless in his computer mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be honest: was it good? I'm sorry if it was bad, but I had to first introduce Harry to the story and also Zayn (I'm sorry again if you're mad about him being a Terinator, but admit it... he's a sexy Termintor). The REAL story begins soon in the next chapter ;)
> 
> Also, here's something to look forward to: Harry and Louis will be meeting for the first time in the next chapter.


	3. мeeтιng

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis and his cybernetic protector hurry to save Harry Styles, who might just be Terminator food if not saved first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. I left it to the very last freaking minute. Forgive me?

 

Louis' sweet, blue eyes are brooding and belligerent on the back of the driver's seat where the cyborg is currently driving his mum's van to who the _hell_ knows where.

 _Oh_ , oh yeah: they're going to "Holmes Chapel, Cheshire," which will take approximately "two hours and eight minutes" to get there. Louis peers at the van's digital clock. He was told that information about an hour and a half ago, and since then there's been no words passed between the two, it's gonna take about a half hour to reach there now.

It seems that the van's atmosphere just keeps building and building, and with each passing minute, the tenseness is starting to feel palpable against Louis' skin. The omega groans, feeling another stitch of hunger drop in his stomach. Yeah... and he hasn't eaten either. Actually, the last time Louis ate anything was at _dinner_ , and even then he _barely_ consumed anything. _Stupid_ , he castigates himself, and it was all because he'd had a fit.

Yeah, he'll admit that. Louis' man enough to admit that he blew a fuse; however, even with that said, he still stands by his opinion on the whole inviting-new-neighbors-over-so-that-Louis-can-make-it-happen-with-the-alpha-son. Uh, _HELLO?!_ This isn't Romeo and Juliet! They're not gonna trip down the love well the moment they start talking! Besides, the son was a complete wanker anyway. Sexist little shit... Louis still wishes he dragged the asshole's fat head through the dirt while he still could. 'Course, then he had to be interrupted by... _this_ thing.

... Speaking of which, how in the blue  _hell_ did the cyborg know where Louis lived? Had it been implanted into his computer brain when he was sent through the time hole? How had the people who sent him know where he lived? Who were the people that sent this guy? Oh, wait, Louis knows - it was people from the Human Resistance.

Louis snickers... though, even as much as he finds the whole idea of a "Human Resitance" and computers eventually ruling the earth, the mere thought of a dark, catastrophic future like that settles a discomforting feeling in the omega. If it's true- _everything_ -then Louis' in for a hell of a life's roller coaster.

Never in his eighteen years has he deliberated on the idea of becoming a parent. Birthing or adopting, Louis wanted _no_ part of parenthood. And now, based on what this cyborg sent from the future has told him, his parenthood reigns over all else. He's not even given a _choice_ in the matter because apparently this whole jazz is "inevitable." He won't _probably_ be a parent; he _will_ be a parent whether he likes it or not.

And who the hell's this Harry Styles character? Were they ever gonna meet casually before, or was this just what God had planned for them from the start? Whatever the case, Louis' not finding a very bright liking to this guy, and they haven't even _met_ yet! To Louis, he sounds like another Donny; conceited and chauvinistic. It's just all about him, isn't it? It doesn't matter if Louis' gonna be carrying a parasite in his belly for nine fucking months. And probably once the damn thing is born, Louis'll be forgotten, known simply as the one who gave birth to the 'legendary leader of the future,' and this Harry guy will shine along with their little gremlin in the spotlight of glory and honour.

Louis' interrupted by his belly groaning again, demanding attention. _Right_ , well, if Louis' ever gonna survive to see the future, he needs sustenance. He groans pitifully, asking, "Hey, you know when we're stopping next?"

The cyborg is silent for a moment, then -with ominous slowness- turns his head to the side. His impassive face only adds to the terror as he swaps his attention from Louis' face down to his stomach area. Louis is suddenly curious as he watches the cyborg return his sights to the road, wondering what _that_ was for.

"What?" Louis presses.

The cyborg's answer is stiff and unchanged - robotic. "You are hungry."

Louis blinks up at the cyborg's reflection in the van mirror. "Did I, uhm... did I make it too obvious?"

"I made an estimate based on the way your arms wrap around your mid-section," is the cyborg's informative reply.

Automatically, Louis glances down to see that his arms are in fact swathing his stomach region, as if protecting it, but really it's just an instinctive gesture he makes whenever he's hungry. His face burns sheepishly, and he self-consciously curls in closer to himself like a poked caterpillar. "Heh... so I guess I _did_ make it a little obvious, huh?"

The cyborg ignores his comment. "I have located a rest area twelve point eighty-six minutes away from our position. We will stop there and replenish your human form."

" _Human form_ ," Louis scoffs, "and let me guess: you require gasoline to replenish your _cybernetic_ form..?"

"Negative. My system is powered by an iridium nuclear-energy cell."

Louis' brows knit together. "What, is that like a battery?"

"Affirmative."

Louis plants his face in his hands with a dragging, frustrated groan. He rests there for a moment, wondering why it had to be _him_ , then leans back against the seat and stares crossly into the mirror. "Okay, listen, you _got_ to change your answering responses. Saying stuff like 'negative' and 'affirmative' makes you sound like an astronaut, and down here on earth, we prefer to sound more casual and use the more common 'yes' or 'no' answers, so unless you want people to think you're some robot, I suggest you change your dialogue."

" _Yes...,_ " the cyborg says as if testing out the word for the first time. " _Yes_ , I will change my dialogue."

Louis -startled by the obedience of the unforgiving killing machine- sputters for a moment before saying, "You- wait, just like _that?_ You're not gonna _argue_ with me?"

"Arguing is irrelevant," the cyborg replies. "I have been authorized to comply to Louis Tomlinson's orders."

It takes a few seconds for Louis to soak in the meaning of those words, and he smirks just a little bit. "So... you have to do as I say?"

There's a short pause. "Yes."

Louis giggles maliciously. "Well then, as my first order of business, I _command_ you to bring me back home safe and sound and to never come back into my life again."

The answer is quick to disappoint the omega. "The codes for my mission to ensure Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles' survival cannot be permuted."

Louis gapes. "You serious?!"

"Yes."

The omega fumes, scrunching his face like a piqued five-year-old. That one moment of relief when he truly believed he'd found a loophole -that he'd _actually_ be able to go back home and forgot about this entire thing- only to be foiled - _ruined_. Shit. Whoever sent this cyborg obviously was aware of Louis' tactics and sought to preempt them. It was a smart move... yet irritating (to Louis) because now, unless Louis can somehow escape this super powerful drone from the goddamn future, he's once again condemned to the horrid fate of parenthood (and a dark, dark future... apparently).

"Fine," Louis grumbles, " _be_ like that... see how I care. I'll escape from you eventually."

"You have been targetted for termination," the cyborg states. "By removing me from your protection, your chances of survival decreases to fourteen percent."

" _Fourteen?_ " Louis squawks indignantly. "Is that a joke, or are you just some smug machine?"

"No. It is no joke," the cyborg replies, then goes on to explain, "without any weapons or protective clothing, your omegian form is vulnerable to the T-800's offensives."

Louis snarls, "Are you calling me _weak?_ "

It seems as though the cyborg's tone softens slightly, like a tired parent who's had to remind his/her child something for the hundredth time. It's almost as though he's _sighing_. "My intention was not to offend you, Louis Tomlinson. I was only informing you of the truth."

"And the truth is that you think I'm weak, isn't it?"

"No."

Louis barks, "THEN WHAT IS IT?!"

"Your human form is susceptible to a T-800's abilities."

Louis sighs, frowning. "So... it's only because I'm _human_ , right?"

"Yes."

"What if I was an alpha, huh? Would it be different then?"

"No. Even with added muscle tissue and mass, the human body is still- "

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Louis sinks into his seat, sulking. "Just... tell me when we get to the rest area."

"Okay."

 

 

☨      ❦      ☨

 

 

Twelve point eighty-six minutes later, they were parked at a rest area. Louis had interpreted it as his chance to flee and, with a cheetah-leap off the edge of the van, Louis immediately sprung out from the vehicle's mouth once the cyborg had foolishly opened it for him. Unfortunately -though quite predictably- Louis had quickly been thwarted, hooked by the back of his shirt's collar. It sharply yanked him by the neck and he choked out a squeak - both of pain and surprise.

"L-Let _go!_ " the feisty omega demands, his hands quick to claw and pry at the metal grip on his collar, though his efforts are merely a feather's touch compared to the aptitude of the cyborg.

"This pugnacity is meaningless," opines the cyborg, unfazed and positively possessing the epitome of a tired parent's expression as the teenager struggles. He eventually just shuts the van door, turns, and begins to walk casually towards the building, dragging a squabbling Louis behind him as if he were pulling a wagon. Thank-goodness for the empty parking lot or surely this easily misunderstood scene could've been reported to the police.

About halfway across the parking lot, Louis barks, "Let me _go_ , you stupid _machine!_ I-I _command_ you to release me at _once_ \- do you _hear_ me?!"

And all at once, the angry omega is released as he finds himself plunging harshly onto the hot, paved floor. He yelps, startled by the painful stab alerting in his tailbone. He wasn't expecting the cyborg to obey; he was merely spouting words - anger. It takes him a moment to realize this, and he sits quietly for a few seconds to absorb it. It's not until the smug reminder that, oh yes, this thing said it _has_ to obey everything Louis says, when a not-so-subtle smirk stretches Louis' cheeks.

The teenager swings around to shoot the cyborg a pompous grin. "That's right," he says, snake-like, "you have to do as I say, _don't you?_ " He arises to a sly stand and crosses his arms as he stares wickedly at the metal drone.

"To an extent," the cyborg replies, stiff and solemn like a soldier, yet ready to act hastily in case the boy before him tries anything artsy again.

Louis doesn't seem to notice, nor frankly care. "Still," he applies, "you have to do as _I_ say, right?"

There's a pause. "Right."

"Ha! So, in that case, I'll be off on my merry way! And in the meantime, you just stay right here, okay?" And with that, Louis twirls around and begins his stroll back to the van... but then stops upon hearing the resounding thuds of following steps behind him and snaps around to scowl warningly at the tailing cyborg. "Did your programmers skip out on a part of your English? I said 'stay there'!"

"I cannot comply," the cyborg simply bloviates. "I have been assigned to protect Louis Tomlinson."

Louis fumes. " _Leave!_ "

"No."

"UGH!" Louis storms over and lands a furious slap on the chest of the cyborg. He bites the inside of his cheek, holding back the impending exclaimation of pain as a sharp throb quickly starts to settle in his hand. _It really is made of metal..._ "G-Go away!"

"I cannot comply to that," claims the cyborg, then adds, "and your hormonal aggressive is useless."

"Hormonal?!" Louis bays indignantly. "What exactly is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"The left hemisphere of your brain has been stimulated upon the activity and increase of testoterone levels in your blood."

Louis growls, "I wasn't asking about the science of that reason; I was asking why you would even _say_ something like that, you twa- !" Louis is silenced upon a rather demanding groan from his middle region. He immediately winds his arms around his stomach tightly as if telling it to shut up. Refusing to look up, his face reddens to a mortified fifty shades.

"You are hungry."

Louis growls, twisting away with a scorn.

"Come with me," the cyborg orders gently, yet the steel tone abides. He offers a hand towards Louis. "You must restore your health."

" _Restore_ my health?" Louis hisses, "you know, it's not like I'm not _dying_ here!"

"Your health will diminish the longer you procastinate your hunger," the cyborg informs intelligently.

Louis scowls darkly. "I already know that, and it's not like I was planning on starving myself anyway."

"Then what do you plan on doing exactly?"

Louis opens his mouth, an artful response on the edge of his tongue... yet nothing comes out. He flusters, clamping his mouth shut with a grunt. Why can't he answer that? This is unlike him; usually the teen has a legendary smart-mouth, but it seems he just _can't_ answer that. It might have something to do with the fact that his stomach is pestering him -beyond demanding now as his acid begins to chew desperately at his stomach lining- but it's like his mouth-to-brain connection has just been snipped.

... What was he gonna do? Go driving back to his house, then what? Try to explain to the cops how he was abducted by a _cyborg_ sent from the future to bring him and some random guy together to mate and birth the magical leader of the Human Resistance in the year 2029? Sounds reasonable... if you were _nutcase!_  With a story like that, Louis would find himself in a straight jacket before he could even finish explaining the damn thing.

Also, this man-masked machine has already droned on several times that he's _incapable_ of leaving Louis. He's computer-programmed; it's not like he just _decides_ that he doesn't feel like doing something and stop; no, he will _fulfill_ his purpose. That's what machines are. They don't have feelings; they just do what they're made to do - nothing else. Even if Louis somehow escapes this super-smart cyborg, he'll just be chased right back down. If he found him before, he can just as easily do it again.

With a defeated sigh, Louis pitifully lags towards the rest area building, ignoring the cyborg hand with a disdainful sneer as he leisures right past. A light ire washes over Louis as he remembers that the cyborg can't feel hurt or offended; he'll just go with it without a burn in the world. And at that, Louis suddenly feels a stab of jealousy in his heart. To not experience the pain of human emotions... wouldn't that be something.

... But wait!

Louis snaps around. "We don't have money!" He glowers, "how do you expect this will go, huh? Just walk in there all casually and steal the food with fifty other people watching?"

The cyborg lingers his stare on Louis' impassively, then -with an easy turn- strolls towards a distrait man prattling on to his cell phone who seemingly just emerged out from the building. Louis watches as the man suddenly ends up on the hot, grey floor, unconscious and walletless as the cyborg ambles right back to Louis with a stolen brown wallet in his hand. Louis' face infects with appall.

The cyborg stops before him, flagging the wallet a breeze from his chest in gesticulation. " _Now_ we have money," he simply says, then continues on his merry way towards the building.

Louis sighs. _He really is a cold, heartless machine..._

 

 

☨      ❦      ☨

 

 

Entering the building, Louis represses his gaze like a guilty dog. Even though he didn't actually _commit_ the money-robbing crime from the innocent person, his eyes are still sharp with erring. His head hangs slightly, though elevated enough to watch where the cyborg is heading. Ugh, he can't _believe_ he's actually _following_ it now. Right after trying to flee from it, the sudden swap of events is starting to divulge a gross, discomforting feeling inside of Louis. It just doesn't feel right: following the _kidnapper_...

It's just... _arrgh!_ Fine, he'll come up with a different story to tell the police -a less _insane_ -sounding one- but he just needs to _get away_ from here. Future or not, Louis has said many times over that he is _not_ having pups! There must be a bug somewhere in the identification department in the cyborg's computer mind because Louis is _adamant_ that he's got the wrong person.

"Oof!" Louis grunts when he abruptly collides with another hard body. He quickly peers up to see the familiar drone-like face staring straight ahead, unperturbed by the fact that Louis just smacked into his arm. _Does he not feel physically, too?_ Louis wonders, poking the clothed bicep of the cyborg. It's just like touching any other human being... that is until you push deeper and feel the hard, metal bones hidden beneath the disguise.

Louis gasps, stepping back. It's not that he wasn't already starting to _believe_ that this thing was... what'd he say again?... Oh, yes: "metal endoskeleton concealed by living human tissue." Upon witnessing the emotionless attitude and super-human strength, it'd become a little more easy to believe it when he was told that. But just now... it's like the truth just pummelled right at him. He could _feel_ the sharp metal - the true form underneath.

When Louis looks up, he realizes this time that fake brown eyes are staring _at_ him, and his face immediately blooms with a rosy colour. "Uh..." Louis mumbles, scratching the back of his head sheepishly, "sorry 'bout that."

"Your apology is irrelevant to me," the machine says.

Scurrying up to him with a chagrin, Louis hisses, " _Shh!_ You can't be talking all drone-like around civilians! People will start to think something is up with you."

"I thought this topic of yours had already been explicited."

"Yes- _no!_ Er, it _was_ , but I didn't clear up _everything_ with you," Louis hastily explains - urging. "I just need you to try acting more... _human_ , okay? Try to act _normal_ \- say things people would _normally_ say."

"I don't understand what this 'things people normally say' means."

"Okay, okay, I'll uh... I'll go over it with you. Just... just let me do the talking from now on, okay?"

"Okay."

Louis exhales. "Thank-you."

After buying food with money that wasn't even theirs, Louis -now the guide- finds a small empty table slightly more reserved from everyone else, hoping that by being out of earshot, they could talk in peace without someone suspecting anything. There's a heavy plonk on the seat in which shudders and scrapes at the hard floor below him. Louis' eyes open owlishly at that and he quickly surveys the area for any observing eyes, but finds non (thankfully!) and sighs, snapping his head to glare at the culprit who potentially endangered their chances of looking _normal_.

"What was _that?!_ " Louis snarls.

The cyborg looks to the teen - guileless. "What?"

" _That!_ " Louis gestures accusingly to him. "You nearly made an earthquake just now! Could you _at least_ be a little more subtle?"

"I am two hundred and sixty-six pounds," the cyborg explains.

" _Jesus_ ," Louis exclaims vehemently, "two hundred and sixty-six _pounds?_ How are you able to _walk_ so swiftly?" He begins unwrapping his burger. "I mean, I get that you're made of metal and that metal's heavy, but you don't even _look_ like you'd be one hundred and _seventy_." He takes a bite into the Whopper burger, savouring the saucy flavours. Food definitely tastes better when you're hungry.

"My metal endoskeleton weighs approximately two hundred pounds. The rest comes from the human tissue."

Louis gives an unsure face as he swallows. "The skin weighs _sixty_ pounds?"

"It's not just skin," the machine elucidates. "I also possess quantities of muscle tissue."

"Do you _use_ it?" Louis asks curiously, "or is it just for show?" It's a machine; its bound to have springs and gears that operate its reflexes and movements.

The cyborg's face is blank before he answers, "For show."

"I knew it," Louis muffles, his mouth half-packed with patty and assortments. He suddenly glances down at the burger, then to the cyborg, and asks, "You said you don't eat... but doesn't a battery eventually run out?"

"No."

"... So, like." Munch. "It basically lasts you an entire lifetime?"

"If I do not have to remove one, then yes."

"One?" Louis presses, "I thought you _only_ had one."

"No. I contain two iridium nuclear-energy cells."

"Oh... well, then just don't do anything stupid," Louis advises, placing down the sloppy Burger King product and taking a napkin to rid his hands of the saucy excess, then proceeds to sip from his Pepsi.

"Stupidity is not among my functions," the cyborg plainly tells him.

Louis rolls his eyes, swallowing the pop. "'Course it's not."

He stares up, just letting his gaze sink into the wooden face of the cyborg, and he wonders just how exactly the process of constructing this thing underwent. Humans couldn't've possibly built this thing; it's _way_ beyond our skill to accomplish something like _this_ : super intelligent and _independent_. This thing could obliterate every single person in this room if it wanted to... 'course, it doesn't have desires, so it'd have to be ordered to, right?

... Louis could. He could _tell it_ to kill every and anyone in this building and it wouldn't hesitate. The feeling of having ultimate, malicious power slithers through Louis' veins at the thought. Obviously he'd never do that, but the fact that he _could_ has a dark feeling fuzzing warmly on his skin. The cyborg had told Louis that he was basically useless without a weapon, but by telling him that he had been "authorized to comply to Louis Tomlinson's orders," he's also telling him that he himself could be a substitute for the weapon that Louis' missing. 'Course, he refuses to do the one thing that Louis wants and that is to leave him be, so perhaps he can also refuse to do Louis' dirty deeds.

... That reminds the teen: he needs to start plotting his escape.

Louis blinks, realizing he's still staring at the cyborg, though it seems the machine does not fathom the rude manners as he simply just sits there, looking as though he's cogitating. Louis actually wonders what he's doing because he knows the cyborg can't think -not without a brain- but there must be _some_ kind of activity in that computer mind of his or else he wouldn't look so focused.

When Louis finishes eating, he disposes of the mess. He pauses, twisting his head over his shoulder to surreptitiously peek at the cyborg. The thing is still staring into space. Perhaps he could make a break for it...

"We are leaving."

Louis jumps slightly - startled. "Oh, uhm... wait, right _now?_ " he asks, staring dubiously up at the cyborg as it steps off the chair with ease.

"Yes."

"Why?" he presses.

"The other T-800 has located Harry Styles' position."

Louis' thin brows furrow bemusedly. The other...?

_"You have been targetted for termination."_

_Louis blinks. "I've... been targeted... for what?"_

_"For termination."_

_Louis takes a minute to try and absorb all the information. His mind jams, unable to process anthing this stranger just said. "Wha- wh-who wants to... terminate me?" Louis' tongue fizzles with the use of the peculiar word._

_"A T-800 sent from the year 2052."_

"You mean other cyborg that came here like you did?" Louis squawks, hurrying up to the cyborg that's already coursing its exit through the area.

"Yes."

Louis' insides seem to stiffen. Even though he doesn't know who this "Harry Styles" is, it's still worrying about what could potentially happen to him. If this other machine is the exact same as this one that's supposedly protecting them, only this time it's been programmed to _kill_ them, then that's horrifying. Empathetically, Louis would hate to imagine how _terrified_ Harry must be right now if he's currently being hunted by that killing machine.

The thought suddenly crosses Louis as he scuttles through the entrance doors, the cool evening wind licking at his skin. "Wait, what happens if Harry dies?"

And for the first time in that entire day, the cyborg is silent. He just continues on walking as if he never heard Louis' question... _did_ he?

Louis decides to ask again, this time more demanding and coherent. "What happens if Harry dies?"

Dark silence engulfs the drone again. Then, just as the two reach the van, it stops, face pondering as he reels his head up to look deeply at Louis. "Get in."

"W-What- wait, you didn't answer my que- !" The teen is suddenly yanked by the collar and catapulted into the back seat, condemned to tumbling harshly onto the fuzzy floor. "Agh!" he grunts, his side throbbing. He hears the sliding door, then a second later the driver's door is pried open and shut harshly. With an indignation, Louis wrenches his head up and growls, "The hell was that? I thought you were supposed to protect me."

"Sit on the seat."

"No," the teen snaps, his stubbornness immediately kicking in. Who the hell does this machine think it is? Now it decides it just wants to ignore Louis' questions? It said it was authorized to obey him, so what suddenly reprogrammed it?

The cyborg is quiet for a moment, then turns its head to stare at Louis. Even though its face is neutral and calm, Louis still feels a tinge of despair when he looks upon the thing's threatening gaze. He looks so serious, Louis realizes - fearful. The teen then dreads what could happen if he risks a second refusal to the cyborg's request, and -with a snotty huff- crawls up onto the back seat.

"Put your seatbelt on," the cyborg commands.

And in the case of life or death, Louis would, but no. He won't let his pride go to shame. He was told he was the one in charge - not this machine. 'Course, there's the fact that the cyborg has kidnapped him and tied him down from escaping, but it also told him that Louis had the authority by whoever programmed it that he could call the shots. And right now, Louis demands to know the answer to his very simple question, at least before he does anything else.

This is like the only time Louis has felt any sort of power in his life. He thought he had control over his choice of parenthood, but apparently not, so now he's clinging to the only and last strand he has of managing things.

Mustering his courage, Louis folds his arms over his chest in defiance. "No," he says firmly, "not until you answer my question."

Louis can't seem to get over all cold this thing's gaze is. It's so hard to estimate its intentions since it only displays one expression, and that's "unreadable." Impassive, intimidating... just the right blend to compose a super sinister character. The only comfort Louis has found from all this is that fact that this deadly machine has claimed that he's only "protecting" Louis, which obviously means Louis' life has been spared, at least as long as he's with this cyborg and not the other one.  
"Harry Styles will not die," the cyborg tells the teen firmly, then wheels around to ignite the van.

"You're pretty confident," Louis remarks. "How are you so sure?"

The van is pulled out from the parked spot and driven towards the edge of the highway. There's an earnest patience before the van whips out into the haste of the road. Louis grips the material of the seat harshly as if he were about to fly right out of the car. Obviously someone's in a hurry...

"Because I will save him."

 

 

☨      ❦      ☨

 

 

With breaths sharp and hefty, Harry scurries behind the body of a truck parked on the side of the road, hoping that by warding himself that the killer will eventually pass him down the road, and Harry could make a quick flee after that. But... what happens if he _sees_ him? Harry shudders, squatting down behind a large tire and curling into himself, trying to shroud as much of himself as possible.

He can still hear the civilians' peals of terror in the background. He's been hearing it for about ten minutes... ten minutes of trying to escape death. And his fatigue's definitely not aiding the situation. He's tired, he's upset, he's confused, and above all else reigns the terrible question: what the hell did he do to _deserve_ this? Harry's always been benevolent to his fans... could it have not been enough? He has been awfully exhausted lately and skipped out on visiting the outside... but why must _this_ be his karma? _DEATH?!_

As Harry attempts to modulate his powerful breathing, his chest coils, turning his breaths into wheezes. He covers his mouth with hands, trying to mute the coherency. He can't be seen... not here... just, please, five minutes?!... A-And maybe a bottle of water, too - that wouldn't hurt.

But, sadly, Harry knows he's been reduced to one option, and that's to run from this killer who so badly wants to see his dead body. He doesn't have any weapons, unlike the killer, so trying to fight him would be futile. And also... Harry's not sure... but there seems to be something off about this police officer (other than the fact that he's on a murderous rampage). When Harry had peered over his shoulder, he noticed the cold, solemn expression; the expression that clearly speaks his one and only intention: "I don't care what happens; I want to see you dead."

Listening fearfully, Harry picks up on the loudly-increasing thuds on the other side of the truck. All at once, Harry's insides stiffen and his heart stabs in his chest. Has he found him? Did he even see him hide behind the vehicle? Harry was hoping that the cluster of people would blind the killer, giving Harry enough time to find a hiding place... but it seems now the plan was stupid. Has he forgotten the most important thing to remember when trapped in a horror movie? No matter what, the killer _always_ knows where you are.

Shoes fall upon the pavement, making a trepidatious melody as they approach closer to Harry. And then they just _stop_. Holding his breath, Harry prepares for the inevitable.

The truck suddenly creaks and squeals boisterously as the back end is lifted. Harry snaps his head up, quick to scurry away just as his survival instincts kick in. There, with one arm hoisting the one end of the six thousand pound truck with ease is the black-haired killer. His face and body is unfazed by the extreme weight of the vehicle, and that's what amazes Harry. The killer stares at Harry, all his cruelty and malice pouring into that single placid expression as he slowly raises his gun to Harry's face.

In an instant, Harry breaks into a sprint. The gun fires, but misses miraculously, ricocheting right off the asphalt with a _"ping."_ The truck is released, creating a slight quake as it smashes back onto the hard floor. In his haste, Harry accidentally bumps into a few beetling people. He makes a swift look over his shoulder, searching for the killer, but then-

"Oof!" the celebrity grunts just as he slams into a colliding body and tumbles harshly to the ground.

Harry hisses in sharp pain, raising his head to see, but is quickly smacked by a charging boot in the cheek, forcing him back to the floor. He groans, but refuses to stay glued to the ground - not while he's the prey. He presses his palms to the road and shoves himself to his feet, staggering slightly. People continue to teeter him off balance as he tries to forge his way through the mob. _Is running all that these people know how to do?_ Harry thinks in frustration.

Then, something hard stabs him in the square of the back, sending him hurtling back towards the rocky floor. He shrieks out in pain, his arm quick to twist behind his back instinctively, shielding it. The screams surrounding Harry intensify, and he jerks his head up to identify the reason for the commotion, but instead is greeted by a thrusting shoe to his throat.

Immediately, Harry sputters out a choking noise. His hands fly to the shoe pressing down on his trachea and tries to pry it off, but it's no use. He begins squirming underneath the hold of the shoe, but that doesn't help either. He's trapped.

Through wet eyes, Harry looks up at the person responsible, then his insides seem to shrivel up in horror as he realizes it's _him_ \- the killer. Harry would've gasped if it weren't for the shoe cutting on his air flow.

The killer stares down at him. Harry coughs, still trying to tear the man's foot off his throat, but-again-it's no use. Harry can suddenly picture his death happening right now - here, tethered down in the middle of the road. He feels like crying out, pleaing for help, but who would help him?

For the second time, the killer raises and points the gun at Harry's face. A single bead of sweat rolls down the side fo his face as he prepares for the click of the trigger.

 

 

☨      ❦      ☨

 

 

"Could you at least slow down _a bit?!_ " Louis yells. The van's speed has literally exceeded sixty over the limit in just the past two minutes, and to say Louis' worried about potentially crashing into something would be an understatement.

"Harry Styles is in danger," the cyborg says. "I must reach him as soon as possible."

"But you're gonna kill us both if you don't freaking slow _down!_ " Louis bellows, clenching his nails into the seat. Then, just as the van bounds around another car, Louis roars, "I _COMMAND_ YOU TO SLOW DOWN!!"

And, just like that, a difference in the van's speed becomes patent. Steadily slowing to a softened pace, Louis releases the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His hands slowly start to slacken from the material of the seat as relief gushes through Louis' system. The van's still plentiful over the speed limit, but it's a lot better than from the previous race car speed.

"Th-Thank-you," Louis says, reaching up to wipe the hair from his face.

"I recommend that this vehicle go faster," the cyborg suggests. "If I am to reach Harry Styles on time, this vehicle needs to acquire a speed of one hundred and twenty miles per hour."

"How do you feel about being _arrested?_ " Louis implies. "You do realize a police officer could be watching us, right? And I don't know if the rules of the road come along with your programming, but when you drive over the limit and a police officer catches you, you have to stop."

"This vehicle cannot stop. I am late as it is."

Louis is slightly baffled. "What do you mean by 'late'? Is there a certain time where you need to reach Harry?"

"If the T-800 is still hunting Harry Styles, it will only be a matter of time before the human runs out of energy and the T-800 will terminate him."

Louis feels a pinch of anxiety. "Uhm... which is approximately how long...?"

"Ten minutes."

Louis balks. "T- _Ten?_ "

"Yes. That is why I must reach Harry Styles as soon as possible."

"But, wait," Louis blurts, "ha-how are you able to find out these things? How do you _know_ that the the other killing machine has found Harry?!"

"The Internet."

Louis scoffs. "'Course." He then fidgets with the worry of what could happen to Harry in the minutes they delay. Even as the dark idea still stands that if Harry does die now, Louis won't have to worry about giving birth and being a parent... it's still very selfish. Louis would hate to know that he could've prevented someone from being killed, yet decided against it because he was too selfish to see past it. And so, the omega decides with a sigh, "Fine. You can go fast- !"

Instantaneously, Louis is thrown back against the seat as the van abruptly speeds up again, heedless of the other cars as it bolts right around them like a maze. Louis grunts, hands fisting into the seat again anxiously. He tries to convince himself that this is for the _better_ ; that if they hurry, Harry will have a better chance at living... if they don't die in the process.

Louis eyes squeeze shut. _Ugh... not helping_. Well, it seems as though this cyborg knows what it's doing. Hopefully instead of steering into a tree, they'll steer right into the T-800.

 

 

☨      ❦      ☨

 

"Wha- what did I d-do?!" Harry demands dryly, then squeaks out another choked cough.

The man does not respond. His face remains plain as the red dot suddenly pokes in Harry's eyes, moving to accurately place the gunpoint between his eyes. So, _this_ is how he wants to do it? Make sure that the last picture Harry will ever see will be a murderous man on top of him, darting a gun maliciously at his head? Harry, upon realizing he's not gonna get an answer, squeezes his eyes shut, bracing for the blow.

Harry's body jolts when the sound of gunfire reverberates through the area. The only thing that Harry dubbed curious was the abscence of the bullet in his head. There's no pain; no shock. The gun hadn't been fired from the killer; someone _else_ had fired it!

Popping open his eyes, Harry realizes that the man is no longer staring at him, but has his head twisted over his shoulder as he regards his attention somewhere else, presumably to whoever fired the bullet. Realizing his chance, Harry is quick to try and peel off the shoe, but- _Jesus Christ!_ -it's like trying to push off a boulder. _Is this even humane?_ Harry wonders, fear quickly cutting into him. Then Harry's eyes seek past the man's form, searching for a person handing a gun, then finds-

"PAUL!" the celeb shrieks in appall, "NO! DON- _agh!_ " He's cut off abruptly by sharp pressure on his trachea, a silent command to be quiet by his killer.

More gunfires follow, and Harry observes dumfounded as the man atop him's head snaps back with each blow of a bullet, but he never falls down dead. Harry is scandalized by the impossible sight. _H_ - _How is he not dead?!_

Harry's heart sinks as he watches the man raises his arm, focuses the gun and pulls the trigger. Harry had never thought he'd ever see his bodyguard fall so lifelessly to the ground before, and now that he has, he doesn't think he'll ever be able to forget the dark feeling that swathed him when he realized that the man he'd always seen as a second father was dead.  
He's dead... and now Harry's next.

But somehow, a rage enters Harry like never before. With gritted teeth and a livid shove, Harry somehow manages to toss off the man's lock on him. It was like moving cement, but miracuously, Jesus was on Harry's side today, and before he knows it, he's shot to his feet and immediately his legs started to carry him briskly across the black road. He doesn't know where he's going or what he'll do, but he's not just about to stop and let his brains be blasted out.

 

 

☨      ❦      ☨

 

 

" **TARGET ESCAPING** ," reads across the screen of Zayn's vision as he watches his victim speed away. He sites the gun up at Harry Styles' position and... nothing happens. The T-800 -realizing the weapon is empty- drops the gun without heed onto the ground and begins a soldier-like sprint towards his target. With cybernetic legs, he is bound to catch up to the petty human in no less than fifteen seconds.

However, it's only when the sound of screeching tires reaches his computer ears that Zayn glances over his shoulder to see a large black vehicle slide on its tires and ram its end powerfully into the cyborg. Zayn is sent hurtling backwards from the impact, reflecting right off a nearby bricked building's wall like a wrecking ball. Russet blocks litter around Zayn's body when he lands back onto the dirty floor with a hard thud.

 

 

☨       ❦       ☨

 

 

Harry is thrown right back onto the floor just as he hears the grated squeal of tires across asphalt, tossed off balance by the sudden gust of the vehicle's vigorous stop. He is dizzy at first, but takes no chances and hurries to scramble to his feet, only to batter back down to the ground as his senses spin, causing his to tangle over his own two feet. He coughs as he accidentally inhales dust, and then jolts when he hears the unmistakable sound of a car door cheep open.

Harry, too frightened to say anything, looks up just as a dark figure steps out of the black vehicle and towards him. The person is a man, and he appears no older than twenty-five. He stops before Harry and offers his hand to him. The words that befall from the man's mouth are sure to stick in Harry's mind forever.

"Come with me if you want to live."

 _Live?_ Harry repeats, _but... but he's a stranger? How am I supposed to trust him? What if he's partners with that other guy who wants to kill me?_ Harry doesn't risk it, and instead of accepting the hand before him, he flinches away, a silent refusal.

Suddenly though, Harry finds his attention jerking past the man and to the sliding door of the van, revealing another person from inside. Harry blinks, befuddled beyond belief.

"Er... you gotta believe him," the boy in the back of the van says, his voice higher-pitched than the average teenage boy, and Harry immediately knows that he's an omega.

 _An omega? Inside a van?_ Harry thinks, _that still doesn't mean anything_. Willingly stepping into a van is something his parents always told him not to do, no matter if there's an attractive omega inside or not. It's still not safe- !

Suddenly grabbed and hauled into the back of the van, Harry soon realizes that he never really had a choice in the matter to begin with. His body clouts with a hard thump onto the flat seat, barely noticing in his daze that his legs had lain limp across the omega's lap. It's ringy, but Harry hears the sound of the door sliding shut, followed by a locking click. He groans. He's really inside a stranger's van... how original.

Aother door shuts, and immediately the vehicle takes off, rushing down the road as if speed limit never existed. Harry is overwhelmed by everything and inevitably slips into unconsciousness.

 

 

☨      ❦      ☨

 

 

"... I, uh... I think he's waking up," comes a soft, calming voice from above him. It's somewhat familiar, yet it's still distant and peculiar to Harry, though the alpha instinctively finds a solace in it and is quickly drawn into a relaxed state of mind.

Harry's eyes remain shut for a few minutes, just allowing his consciousness to slowly return to him. When he comes to, he doesn't immediately open his eyes at first. It takes him a moment to realize that fingers are lightly carding through his hair in a comforting gesture. It's almost as if the person is petting him like a dog, yet he doesn't complain. It actually feels... nice, so he allows it to carry on for another minute, just soaking up the attention (huh - just _like_ a dog).

Then he opens his eyes and immediately everything that had transpired before came rushing back to him.

Suddenly alarmed, Harry flings up and grips at whatever his hands meet first. He finds seat material and claws into it instinctively. His heart feels like it's gonna rip out of his chest at the rate it's travelling at, yet Harry can't seem to focus on anything at the moment. He respires in thin, anxious threads, and he barely notices the touch of petite hands on his arm until words start to flow from the source.

"Heyheyhey! Calm down! It's okay! Y-You're safe now!"

Harry can't possibly get a grip on reality, yet just like the combing fingers in his hair, he's somehow calmed again. He doesn't understand _why_ it's happening to him, but slowly Harry's muscles start to lax and his heart rate steadily begins to diminish. The minutes tick by slowly, but with every second it's a working progress. Words of console continue to be heard, and Harry feels his mind gently start to ease away from the trauma of the recent events.

Seven minutes pass before Harry's actually able to comprehend. He surveys his surrounding and remembers -oh, yes- that he was literally _hauled_ into the back of a van. Immedaitely, he turns to face the omega who also appears to be a hostage here and asks quietly, "Wuh... what's going on?"

The omega smiles tenderly. He looks empathetic, like he knows _exactly_ how Harry's feeling. Harry is puzzled once again, and suddenly finds himself preparing for something stupefying.

"Uhm..." The omega looks down ruefully, "it's... it's a bit of a long story, one _I'm_ not even sure how to explain." He peers up at the front, then to Harry. "Uh... _he_ can probably explain a lot better than I could," he says, thumbing a gesture to the man in the driver's seat.

Harry gazes to the man in the front driving the van, and through the window, it seems as though they've found a single-laned dirt road and are driving along it. Greenery and nature canopy over and surround them, forming the illusion of a shady green tunnel. Night pours through the gapes in the tree leaves, settling a spooky sensation into the atmosphere. Where are they exactly? And how'd they get here? Forests don't exist for a few miles from Holmes Chapel... Jesus, how _long_ was Harry asleep for?

But above all else... _why_ is he _here?_ Why did some man want to _kill_ him? What has he done to deserve _being_ here - kidnapped and frightened?

Harry shivers and looks down, not bothering to ask the man in front anything... not bothering to say anything at all. With all the exhaust of earlier, all Harry can feel now is despondency and sorrow.  _Paul_... Harry's eyes sting with mourning, and he reaches up to rub at them before the tears can embarrass him. He feels like just curling up and just laying there. This is just too much for him right now...

"Look," he hears the omega whisper beside him, "I know you're probably scared right now and, uh, don't really get what the hell's happening right now- "

"I don't understand _anything_ ," Harry states firmly.

The omega sighs. "Yeah... I didn't either... I _still_ kinda don't... but, you gotta understand one thing, and it's that we're _not_ here to hurt you, okay?" There's a pause. "What we did back there... it was to save you, okay?"

Harry is silent.

"You're, uh... you're Harry Styles, right?"

Harry nods slowly. "Yeah." He's not shocked that a stranger would know his name; it's just something he's grown accustomed to over the years of fame. He just assumes this omega must've heard about him from the media.

"Okay. Well, uhm, I'm Louis - L-Louis Tomlinson." Then, a dainty hand is hesitantly offered in greeting.

Harry glances to the small hand, then to the omega boy. The boy-Louis-smiles, though it's only a half-smile - an _unsure_ smile. He's not even confident in _himself_ about this, and yet he's trying to comfort _Harry_ into the situation. Harry can't help but to smile in return, and reaches to shake the boy's hand. He surreptitiously fonds over how his hand seems to engulf the smaller boy's hand, but is quickly stolen from the sight when the boy shyly slides his hand from the grasp.

"Uhm," Louis murmurs awkwardly, "yeah. And, uh, this is..." he continues, gesturing to the man in the front seat; however, he cuts off just before introducing his name, and his delicate features slightly scrunch up as he cogitates.

Harry observes with a curiosity. _What's he thinking about?_ the alpha wonders.

"This is... L-Liam." The omega tone towards the end of his sentence is -on its very own- questioning, like he's unsure of what he's saying. It was like a student who'd been randomly chosen by the teacher and had been forced to guess the answer up on the blackboard.

"I am not a Liam," comes a stony voice from the front.

Louis immediately sighs, and it seems as though a different person has come aboard. "Can you _please_ try to work with me here? I'm trying to make this as easy as possible for him, okay?"

"But I am not a Liam."

"Ugh, well you are now," Louis says. "That's your name from now on: Liam. You're called _Liam_. No complaints."

"Um, sorry," Harry interrupts, hoping to clear up his confusion before this conversation can continue, "but is 'Liam' not his real name, or...?"

The man answers. "I am Subject 2465 Model 101 Series 800 Terminator."

Harry is blank.

Seconds pass before Louis suddenly decides to break the uncomfortable silence with a sheepish snicker. "Uh... yeah, and this is where the long story starts," he tells Harry.

And though Harry wishes he never would've had to ask this question, he figured it'd be inevitable anyways, and with a inhaling muster, he asks, " _What_ story?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so towards the end of the chapter my computer got messed up and restarted, so that meant I'd lost all the edits I'd made in the last few paragraphs. I got so upset that I basically just paragraphed them and left them, only applying small edits. My point is that if you noticed any mistakes that you could just let me know? I might've said "pavement" instead of "asphalt," so if you saw that while reading, just let me know in the comments ;)
> 
> Also... HOW'D YOU LIKE IT?!
> 
> Please forgive me on account of Harry and Louis only talking for a few paragraphs, but I literally realized TODAY that I'd promised you guys that the two of them would meet in this chapter. I was originally gonna be really evil and leave the chapter at the part where Liam says, "Come with me if you want to live," but I couldn't - not with the promise I made in the last chapter. They'll talk a lot more in the next ones. They ARE the main characters after all.
> 
> So, on that account, here's something to look forward to inthe NEXT chapter: you get to know Harry's opinion on the whole 'mating for the future' thing.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments please!! :D


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